


Paradise Apart

by Mimiga



Series: Ears [3]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Gates to Infinity
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gang Violence, Gangsters, Gen, PMD, PMD:GtI, PSMD, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 94,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiga/pseuds/Mimiga
Summary: The city of Paradise is the largest gathering of pokemon in the known world. However, the weight of that lofty title now threatens to collapse the infrastructure its founders so carefully crafted. The first generations of residents who have only known the city have begun to clash with those around them, and worse yet, something sinister appears to be at the forefront. Something with the power to change history. Something that Alexander is all too familiar with. Now it seems the only way to save all he and Reinhardt have built is to confront his past and face the very person who changed his life. Otherwise, the coming winter may hold the end for all of them.
Relationships: Partner Pokemon & Player Character (Pokemon Mystery Dungeon)
Series: Ears [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/980868
Comments: 20
Kudos: 39





	1. Vertex of Fates

It was a starless night. A frigid wind blew through the boughs above the Serperior's head, but without any leaves to rustle the branches simply scratched against one another. The sound quietly echoed off the grey bricks that encased his personal garden, further punctuating the loneliness he felt. His servants had already gone for the night. There were no visitors or ambassadors to account for. There weren't even any guards to pace ruts into the fresh blanket of snow. Just him, a standing torch, and an empty cup of tea. 

Alexander found his thoughts drifting away from him as he stared off into that pristine darkness. The chronic ache of his scars always brought him back to earth in time. Even while coiled around his perch, it was clear to see the crooked posture he endured from injuries past. 

The ghosts of numerous wounds traveled up and down his form. Flesh more pink than white, hastily mended into deformity by his own body, was often surrounded by cracked patches of scales that would never grow back. It was a blessing to have survived as many battles as he had, but no boon ever granted was without payment. He was alive, but it cost him pain, discomfort, and disfigurement. 

Twin clouds of mist rolled from his nostrils as he exhaled. The shattered wonder orb at the base of his perch glistened in the torchlight, its magic clearly spent but the effects of which yet to be seen. A down feather as black as the moonless sky flitted in the breeze from the center of the debris, still half-frozen in a block of crystal. Perhaps there was an extra step that he had forgotten? Was there a ritual he needed to perform for this spell after all? If so, the knowledge had long since slipped his aging mind. Or perhaps they simply chose not to come. 

A massive shape shifted in the darkness just beyond the winter skeletons of the trees. It arrived on the beat on six slender wings, approaching the Serperior in the very same moment that it appeared. It came close enough that the aura of the torch illuminated a pair of sharp eyes and rows of pearly fangs on its reptilian face. It was truly a scene straight out of a nightmare. 

Alexander breathed a sigh of relief and gave a smile. "I was worried that you might not come. It's good to see you, old friend, even if it isn't in the flesh." 

The Hydreigon's toothy grin could've given a smaller pokemon a heart attack to witness, but it was a familiar and comforting sight to him. "Likewise, Alex. Very much likewise! It has been quite a long time since I've seen your face. There's no reason to use my summons so sparingly! I can simply give you more should you run out, and I do enjoy a chat every now and again." 

"I know, Hydreigon. I would, but months seem to pass in the blink of an eye these days. There's seemingly no end to the amount of trouble this city can dole out. I find it difficult to find much free time, especially when I would rather be handling the next issue than lounging around. Sometimes I spend days not speaking a word to Reinhardt because of how much there is to do." 

The dragon shook their head, a slight transparency in their figure showing the silhouettes of trees behind them. "Paradise is the largest permanent gathering of pokemon in hundreds and hundreds of years. Keeping such a place running smoothly is truly one of the most immense tasks one could possibly undertake. Most pokemon would have retired from this position a long time ago, you know. You of all people would deserve a rest." 

"If only." Alexander weakly chuckled. He habitually attempted to straighten his back as it came to the forefront of his mind, but fell right back into a sideways lean. "He says the same thing, you know. But I will keep going as long as he and this city need me to. That was my promise to Rein from the very beginning, and I intend to keep it until I can move no longer. There's no reason to stay on such bleak topics, though. You've surely seen all manner of amazing things on your adventures since I last saw you. I'd love to hear about them while we have the time." 

"..." 

Hydreigon's friendly expression disappeared. They craned their heads to get a better look at the Serperior, their eyes locked firmly onto his. "Alexander. I know you. You have never been a willing audience for my stories before, and you most certainly wouldn't use one of my orbs just to be one tonight. There is something else on your mind that you don't want to bring up." 

Even while some countless thousand miles away, the Voice of Life was uncomfortably adept at seeing straight through him. Alexander glanced over at the flames and started to roll a few reluctant words on his forked tongue before he committed to them. Even then, it took a few moments longer for him to take in the breath to begin his foolish question. 

"There were other humans you brought into this world along with me. While the Bittercold stirred, Kyurem's fanatics systematically hunted down and killed each one, yes?" 

"All besides you, correct," the dragon nodded. 

"What are the chances that another human somehow went undetected and survived until now?" 

Their answer was immediate. "Zero percent. You are the only human I summoned from that time period that lived. All others were slain either from Munna's forces, or from causes unrelated to the Bittercold event but not after its diffusal. I know this for a fact." 

"...I see." Alex closed his eyes. 

Hydreigon's ethereal body made no sound as they shuffled in place. "It begs the question why you would ask such a peculiar question so long after the fact. What is it are you wondering about, Alex?" 

"It's nothing. I was just narrowing out some possibilities is all. I wouldn't want to waste your time with more misguided conjecture." 

"Is that so?" They craned their heads forward. "I just so happen to have all the time in the world. I don't mind a conversation that goes nowhere if it is to soothe the mind of one of my closest friends. What could be so beguiling that you might consider such a thing as a possibility in the first place?" 

The Serperior shifted uncomfortably against his own coils. Despite having gone through with the impulse to call Hydreigon here, he would've rather steered away from the topic altogether. Such doubts were ones he would have rather buried than bring to light. Perhaps that hesitance was made from the hope that all of this was simply his own paranoia getting the best of him. Still, in his heart of hearts, Alex knew that he would have never shattered that orb if this wasn't a real concern. 

"I believe that there is something powerful living in the streets of Paradise," he finally began. "The city has been going through a particularly rough patch these last few years. The population is getting restless. Internal factions that were previously little more than gangs or guilds have begun to blossom to power. I feel as though something historic has been set in motion from right beneath our noses. I fear that it is not something Reinhardt and I can come to control." 

"You fear that it is another human?" Hydreigon said. 

Alexander nodded slowly, glancing off to the side. "Yes. Several nights ago, I encountered a thief while roaming the halls of the capitol building. The reason I was there so late at all is because of several reported trespasses of the property weeks prior. I thought that I might be able to catch the perpetrator in the act, and so I did..." 

  


...

The halls were especially silent that night. Alexander passed between the silver spotlights projected by the moon as he slithered across the stonework. His ruby eyes darted from shadow to shadow, an immovable feeling of foreboding lodged in his chest. The snowfall from hours past glistened from the rooftops down below, brightening the ceiling above his head but leaving the floor in an inky fog. The wary feeling in his gut wasn't helped by the wisps of wind that brushed past the windows, feigning all manner of suspicious noise. 

It had to have been fate that urged him to stay so late. Several minutes into his patrol he heard the clicking sound of claws on stone. Footsteps, and from a pokemon he was certain wouldn't have any right to be in this place. The Serperior lowered his head to the floor and proceeded onwards until the scratching just seemed to grow close. When it suddenly stopped, so did he. A thick silence fell over the corridor that not even the whimsical gusts outside dared to break. The sensory organ on his snout picked up no heat signatures, but an ice type wouldn't leave much of an impression. 

The intruder stepped out into the window's light. A Weavile was what approached him, their dark orange pupils trained on the Serperior's throat. The grin they wore was almost playful, however, like they'd just lost in a game of hide-and-seek. They crossed their arms behind their back and snickered. 

"I see," Alexander began, already sizing up the penalty this pokemon would receive for their crimes. "It's safe to assume that you're the one who's been breaking into here every few weeks, then? There is nothing of any real value here, surely someone with your apparent skill would know that. The only thing to gain from trespassing here is the ability to boast that you could." 

"First impressions are everything, Alexander!" the Weavile chimed back in a decidedly feminine voice. She brandished her claws out in front of her and began to pick at the points. "And you know what? Even if you're right, I can't help but feel a little insulted that you pieced it together so quickly! I can't have our first meeting end with you thinking of me as some common thief with a planet-sized ego. I'm here for a reason!" 

The Serperior narrowed his eyes. "If the judicial system I have put in place holds true, this will be our last meeting. Assuming you are found guilty of the other three counts for trespassing on government property and theft, that is." 

"You make it sound like I'm going to be executed!" she cried out in an exaggerated manner, talons dramatically brought to her forehead. Her razor eyes never left his vitals for the duration of the act. "Of course, you do mean imprisonment, don't you? For someone who writes the laws of this city, that wasn't very concise of you. Perhaps your talent mostly lies in killing outlaws and adventuring into the unknown. As far as running Paradise is concerned, you're more than content with just dropping pokemon you think are annoying into little cages and chopping off the heads of the more troublesome ones. Have you ever wondered if things would be better off without you?" 

"If you're referring to any of your acquaintances I've dealt with in the past, threatening me isn't going to get them any less time. Unless you're trying to get more when you join them." 

Chuckling, the Weavile shook her head. "No, no no! You misunderstand me! That detective wit of your seems to have finally reached its end. While there are a couple of my people I'd rather have back out on the streets, this isn't about that at all. It's much more personal, you see. I've always fancied a bit of regicide myself." 

The wind howled by, seemingly amused by the intruder's quip. Alexander's frown deepened. "Threatening the king puts you in an even deeper hole. Anything else I should add to the list?" 

"You think I'm referring to that bumbling Chesnaught on the throne? First impressions are everything, and I'm impressed at how small-minded you really are!" Her demeanor suddenly shifted, the mocking cheeriness wiped away in an instant to reveal the grave expression that was always just below. "Luckily for you, it's still a little too early to take you down. I'll just have to settle with a bit of breaking and entering to tide myself over until I can make your death a spectacle. Well--I may be a bit of a glutton, actually. Why don't we have a taste of what's to come, brute?" 

Alexander realized all too late that what she said was actually a signal. His spine went rigid at the boom of monstrous stomping behind him. He twisted around just in time for a black mass to fill his vision. Then came a wall of force, crashing into him so suddenly that there was no chance for the pain to flood in. The Serperior found his chance when the beast attempted to follow the tackle with a grapple but was unable to get a solid grip. Whatever he slithered out of had such rough skin that it immediately scratched up his scales upon contact. 

Like a flash of lightning, the tips of Alexander's vines unfurled from their sheaths and flattened at the tips, reflexively slashing at his attacker while he retreated backwards. The thick hide of the pokemon deflected the pitiful blades with ease, but the speed of his threat alone was enough to ward them away for the moment. It was a Druddigon, and a relatively massive one at that. It's spines cast mountains of harsh shadows in the moonlight. 

It charged him once more. Now that the element of surprise had passed, the Serperior had the initiative to release the full potential of his vines, their sharpened tips flattening even further into a pair of meter-long claymores. The dragon wasn't stupid. It stopped in place, well aware of the devastating power and range that Alexander's signature blades possessed, and was forced to search for an opening. It would never find one. 

"By Paradise's constitution, assaulting an official or noble blood under any pretense waives your right to live," the Serperior prattled off, as he has done a disconcerting amount of times before. "Surrender and be captured, or suffer a lawful and immediate execution." 

The Druddigon growled as they slowly circled their opponent. "There's the magic words. Now you can kill anyone you want and get away with it. That's what you meant when you wrote that one, isn't it?" 

There was a flash of movement in the darkness. Alexander's eyes had a hard time following the Weavile, but his reflexes didn't. His blades swung around and gouged into the stone just inches from where she was about to move. Not wasting a second, the Serperior coiled his neck and lunged, his fangs trained for the pokemon's center of mass. The Weavile was quick enough to veer away from his snapping jaws and slink back into the shadows. The same breath she gasped slipped back out into a string of swears. 

Alexander tried to slither backwards and reestablish his dominance over the space, but the Druddigon was surprisingly prepared to take advantage of the distraction, rushing forward to bash him into the brickwork. That was the only blow it managed to land. Each subsequent slash of its claws raked at the stone behind him instead, dodged with ease. 

One of his vines withdrew close to his body, reared back, and plunged into a soft pocket of flesh in the Druddigon's shoulder. He would have pressed the blade deeper and twisted, had the dragon not grabbed hold of him in the heat of the moment and threw him at the window. 

His body was a cannonball, crashing through the glass with such little resistance that he hardly felt the impact. The vertigo, however, immediately punched him in the chest and exploded through his body like an electrical current. The rush of cold air and blurring light was all-encompassing as time slowed. Seconds passed with the pounding of his heart. In an instant, his eyes locked onto the passing side of the capitol building and identified the artistic geometries that would save his life. His vines shot out and reached for a stone pillar. 

He caught on, but the rest of his momentum carried him directly into the wall with a bone-rattling smash. White-hot pain erupted in his upper back when his vines had to catch all that falling weight. A breathless grunt left his throat as he dangled precariously above the rooftops of his city. Even with the howl of his own heartbeat in his ears, it was disproportionately peaceful up here, the calm breeze blowing at the powdered snow that he'd disturbed while landing that maneuver. Most assassination attempts never made it this far, he thought as he pulled himself up along the side of the building. Such criminals should absolutely not be allowed back into the streets. 

It took a great deal of effort, but by sliding himself into the nooks of the stonework and ascending with his vines, Alexander eventually made it back up to the window he'd shattered. When his eyes adjusted to the low light and found no immediate threats, he carefully slid over the jagged edges and into the corridor. His foes were generous enough to leave him a trail of blood to follow. While difficult to see visually, his forked tongue could pick up the scent with ease. He was so confident in the hunt that the Serperior took a leisurely pace so that he could recover his stamina. 

The blood took him down several floors and into a small cluster of offices. The work was done for the day, so luckily there were no civilians about, but the damage those two criminals had caused was still aggravating. Ransacked desks were covered with shredded bits of paper. Bookcases were toppled, drawers were smashed, and three-fingered claw marks dotted the wood. No prior break-in had resulted in such terrible vandalism as this. If they survived his judgement, their list of convictions would be even longer yet. 

One floor later, the trail ended. Alexander sensed the heat of the Druddigon just ahead. He picked up the pace then, the rich odor of blood dancing across his tongue. His vines extended into massive blades and bounced at his sides, ready in a moment's notice to cut down the Weavile should she attempt to ambush him. Luckily enough, she was still beside the dragon when he turned the corner. 

"What?!" the Weavile shouted in surprise, leaping backwards into the spotlight of a window. "How are you still here?! I didn't expect you to die from that, but you should've at least made a nice splat in the snow!" 

The Serperior snickered. "You referenced my past career as an adventurer, correct? Surely you didn't think a fall with that much room for error would be enough to stop me. The mountains up north are much more perilous. Now, shall we continue where we left off?" 

Still gripping at his shoulder, the Druddigon took a stomp forward. "Fine. I'll follow you down this time to make sure you're gone." 

"Brute, dammit! Not now! I told you already!" screamed the Weavile. She backed up to the window and slashed at the pane, shattering a sizable chunk out of the center as the pieces rained down onto the frame and the streets below. "Come on, get moving before I cut your hamstrings and drag you out!" 

The dragon relented and slowly backed away, but the flame in their eyes made it clear how reluctantly they took to the order. They twisted around and crashed through what little glass remained on the fringes. Once they had disappeared, the Weavile hopped up onto the frame and shot a parting grin at Alexander. 

"Until we meet again, Alexander. And we will meet again! I'm looking forward to making such an incredible spectacle out of killing you!" 

She made the jump and sunk into the skyline. Alex slithered up to the window and noticed how much closer the rooftops were on this side of the building. The two thieves had leapt far enough to clear the deathly gap and started to make their escape over the snow-tinged slopes of tiles. He couldn't help but scoff at the way they continued to underestimate him. He then backed up a fair distance, braced his aching muscles for yet another exertion, and lunged forward with righteous determination. The ground disappeared out from beneath his belly, but this time he was in control of the descent. 

A harsh landing awaited him. Nearly slipping straight off right away, Alexander lowered himself to make contact with as much surface area as possible. His tail might've gone off the edge, but the rest of him outpaced the snow and pulled up onto the barrel tiles. The Weavile must've glanced over her shoulder at the noise, appearing stunned that he had the gall to attempt the jump at all. Just when the Druddigon thought to look back, her shout of frustration echoed out over the city and urged him to move faster. 

Slanted planes of ice and clay would've been enough to stop most pokemon in their tracks. For the Serperior, whose center of mass was so spread out and flexible, it was almost no different from any other hill. Of course, the Weavile's short body and curved claws were practically built for this sort of terrain in the first place. It was the dragon that floundered most in this chase, holding her back and helping Alex along. Whenever they'd attempt to lose him in a dizzying series of turns and jumps, his stumbling footprints and blood trail couldn't have made them any easier to find. 

He must have pursued them over a dozen city blocks already. His skin had turned numb and his eyes stung from the frigid wind, but a glorious zephyr filled his lungs with every breath. It was rare from him to have to go all-out these days, and as much as he loathed to admit it, facing a competent foe was way more refreshing than another five months of uneventful bureaucracy. This was the life he had left behind all those years ago. The only thing that mattered was surviving the next minute. Perilous. Exhilarating. 

When it became clear that escape was no longer an option, the criminals offered him a choice. The Weavile pivoted away and hopped onto the battlements of a guard wall while the Druddigon continued to trudge away on their original path. If he chased the dragon down, it was almost certain he'd be able to capture them alive. He would've ordered any guard to make the same choice. 

Regardless of any sound logic, Alexander went after the Weavile. 

She made a grave error turning off when she did. This block existed primarily on the edge of the marketplace, meaning that these rooftops were an island surrounded by wide seas of streets and stalls. There would be nowhere left to jump to and no clear avenues of escape. Swearing up a storm with what little breath filled her lungs, the criminal backed herself up into a corner and brandished her claws. 

"What the fuck's wrong with you?!" she cried out through bared fangs. "It's like you want me to slit your throat! Well Christmas ain't coming early this year, pretender!" 

Alex struggled to speak, the simple act of wheezing sending waves of needles across his back. "Pretender? You must be truly delusional if you still think that I'm somehow the ruler of this place. I may be a founder, but I merely manage law and order. No more and no less." 

"Shut the hell up already! Did you honestly expect to be able to fool everyone with that charade? As if that idiot's anything more than a seat warmer that can take the blame for you! There's no place for a human but on top!" 

"A hu-..." the Serperior stopped. His expression went dark in the moonlight. "...I haven't heard that word said out loud in a long time. My identity isn't known by more than a handful of individuals, either. It's not as if I'm hiding it, but...Who told you that?" 

The Weavile straightened her back and laughed. "Oh? Curious now, are we? Since you're in a listening mood, how about I tell you something you might find interesting? This city rightfully belongs to me, Alexander! I should be the one standing on top of that silver tower! That's my throne your fatass friend is sitting in! And by the time I'm finished, I'm gonna tear that floor out from underneath you and climb back up on your corpses!" 

"What are you talking about?" Alex began to shout. This didn't feel like thoughtless boasting anymore. "Explain yourself. Don't just go rambling on without reason! These accusations are serious!" 

Her laughing got more intense, like she was having the time of her life. "They're serious now, are they?! Then allow me to make myself crystal-clear! The days of your empire are numbered! Carve the name Chenza into your skull, and remember that you aren't the only human in this city!" 

With that, the Weavile extended her arms from her side and fell backwards over the edge of the roof. Alexander, still dazed from absorbing this revelation, took an extra few seconds to realize what had happened and rushed over to the ledge. His ruby eyes scoured every shadow, every nook and cranny between buildings and beneath stalls that she could possibly hide in, but there weren't even footprints in the snow. 

It was as if she never existed in the first place. 

  


...

Hydreigon's brow furrowed in the strained torchlight. A million things must have been running through the dragon's vast and wise mind, but it all accumulated into a single utterance from the bottom of his throat. 

"Hm." 

"It's been gnawing at me ever since," Alexander concluded his story with a sigh. His vine impulsively reached for the empty cup once more, looking for any reason to fidget about. "It could all just be hyperbole. I don't dismiss the fact that they could've been lying. Even just thinking about that, I can't help but wonder why someone would go through the trouble of making up such a story in the first place? Why would anyone lie about being human?" 

"Indeed," Hydreigon muttered, mostly to themselves. "To most, humans are still fantastical creatures from fairy tales. It's rather unlikely that anyone would go around claiming to be one without meaning it." 

"Do you think they could be telling the truth?" 

The dragon shook their heads. "I don't know." 

The Serperior sank even lower on his perch, his muscles loose against the grip of the wood. His gaze wandered to anywhere else. "As I feared you'd say. There's no way for you to tell, huh? Not without them being right in front of you." 

"I see why you might feel the need to contact me about this. If it turns out that there is another human among us, and not one we know the origins of, then-" 

"Then calamity is sure to befall us," Alexander readily finished. "I know what it means. I would know more than anyone else. 'In times of great strife, where it seems that all is lost and fate itself is against us, only a human can step forth and change that destiny.' Humans don't appear naturally in this world. They are brought into existence for a reason. Hearing such a claim come from someone who wishes for nothing more than destruction makes me fear that something terrible is about to happen to Paradise. It may not be something I can deal with on my own." 

Another hum rumbled from Hydreigon's chest, the sound so clear that it was almost like they were really here. "Alex. You know I don't mettle in the affairs of humans. Even if we don't know whether this pokemon is one or not, I'm not comfortable with intervening. If you feel that you need help from an outside source, you have more than enough influence to get it. And you could always conscript the help of a fellow human." 

"Fellow human?" Alex turned his confused expression back to the dragon. "What are you talking about? Aside from the possibility of this stranger, I should be the only human on this entire continent." 

"You know another human, Alexander." 

"I don't know what you're-" He stopped, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. A painful silence came and went. "No." 

"If you fear what fate has in store for you and your city, this is the most sensible course of action," Hydreigon slowly said. "I understand your past. I know how difficult such a thing would be, but I only offered it as an option. Paradise itself and all who live within may be in danger, you said so yourself. There is no better way to combat such a threat than fighting fire with fire." 

It had been a long time since Alexander let these memories seep through the cracks of where he'd buried them. A brilliant plan to conquer nature. A forest ripe with resources and willing folk. A few hard choices he thought he had to make, and a pair of amber eyes staring back at him. The smell of smoke and blood was almost as fresh on his tongue as the regret that seeped from his closed wounds. How could he possibly ask him for help? After all this time and every mistake he had ever made, how? 

"My time here is fading," the dragon continued to say, a sad look on their fearsome face. They looked up to the treetops and regarded the darkness like they were seeing somewhere else. Their form began to turn much more visibly transparent. "Do what you must to protect what you cherish. Remember that I shall support you no matter your decision, Alexander. And no matter the outcome. Do not hesitate to call upon me whenever you need." 

It was like a cold gust of wind had blown through and whisked Hydreigon's image away. Alex shivered and squinted against the ominous breeze. Then he was alone, the solitary feeling flooding back in from all angles until it came crashing together in an almighty quiet. The torch sputtered and danced precariously. This meeting was meant to take this weight off of his chest, and yet he left it feeling an extra two tons heavier. 

There was time to think, but how long did he have to act? When was it too late to ask for help? In the worst case scenario, it wouldn't be long before the city tore itself apart on its own, regardless of the influence any human would’ve had. Alexander stared at the ground as the gears in his head began to smoke and screech. The coming winter was going to be one of the harshest he's ever seen. Of all the uncertainties, this much was sure to be true.


	2. Nexus University

Tapping quills and shifting papers. The lecture hall was alive with sound for anyone who would listen, but a methodical voice at the center of the pitched room stood in the foreground above all else, conducting the pens to make their subtle orchestra. The Delphox sat on a metal staff that she levitated beneath herself, her claw tapping at the edge of a diagram on the blackboard. Dozens of eyes followed the motion with unrelenting concentration. 

"Without nearby ruins or ancient script to tell any tales, one must look to the earth to tell the stories you want to hear," Panne continued, idly rolling her tongue in her mouth between thoughts. "Layers of sediment can be traced back for thousands of years, and much like the rings of a tree, you can find a wealth of information just in these colored lines alone. Natural disasters, geographical events, and even ecological changes can be tracked depending on what you measure." 

A few heads nodded. The song of scribbling picked back up as the students rushed to jot down their notes. Larger pokemon went still as they leaned in close to their papers while smaller ones seemed to put their whole bodies into the motion of their writing. Avians used their talons. Quadrupeds used whatever manipulators they had or simply partnered with another. Some pokemon even had precise enough telekinesis to hold a quill with their minds. Regardless of the methods, everyone involved was laser-focused on the lesson at hand. 

That is, until Panne glanced over at the clock, whose hands had already traveled ten minutes past noon. Then her eyes followed down to the Serperior who smiled at her patiently from the frame of the door. 

"Oh damn. I lost track of time again, didn't I?" she softly mumbled to herself before turning back to the class. "Anyways, we'll have to go over the specifics tomorrow. Keep marks in your books, I'm not even going to erase the board." 

Vallion slithered in before a tide of students could surge forth and wash him away. All the while, Panne struggled to gather up the mess of papers that she had thrown across the desk. What was once a neatly organized folder had been torn apart and rearranged in a multitude of apparently useful ways. 

"You get carried away again?" the Serperior asked as he tried to make sense of the clutter at a glance. 

"No! Mawile's notes were totally a mess! She's unraveled so many cyphers that she just naturally writes in one! And you know I don't get hungry when I'm working, so of course I'm not gonna realize how late it is!" Panne huffed and simply stacked the papers rather than attempting to put them back in any meaningful order. She readjusted her position on the staff that held her aloft, her lame leg dangling as lifelessly as ever. 

"What about you?” she asked. “How thrilled were you when you heard that you had to pick up the math lecture this morning? I'd rather have to deal with a labyrinth of lecture notes any day of the week." 

"Calculus isn't that bad," he said as they both started towards the exit. "Helps if you tried not being bad at it." 

A murky sun half-heartedly beamed down on the courtyard through a layer of fog. Pokemon crowded the gardens and walkways of Nexus University, still pouring out from the monolithic classrooms that lined its perimeter. A biting chill swirled up from the ocean, wove through the crowds, and rustled in the stout needles of the pine trees. A few flying types caught the gust and soared even higher into the sky, but what it mostly did was turn the pages of open journals against their wills. 

It was claustrophobic out here today, wasn't it? Did Kadabra really have to schedule all of the classes so close together? 

Panne scratched at her ears with one hand and steadied her staff with the other. "God, the day's only halfway through and I already can't wait for it to be over. You hear that they're finally opening up Meowth's Theater again? I bet they're gonna be looking for actors for a while, too." Her ears pulled back as she regarded her own posture. "So? You think I'd make a good starring role?" 

Vallion looked off to the side. "You'd make an incredible stagehand with your skill set." 

A playful blow landed on the back of his head. He leaned away and went to retaliate with a vine, but she grabbed onto it and wrapped it around her wrist. "Shut up! I mean, you're right, but you're still an asshole!" 

The warmth of the main building enveloped them as they passed through a pair of double doors. The masses were a bit thinner indoors, but those that did walk the compound's halls did so with purpose. A large portion of the commotion was centered around Floatzel, who could be seen herding up a handful of young explorers off to the side of the marble compass on the floor. A Beautifly and an Ivysaur, among a few others. The order he was about to bark out got cut off half-way when he saw the two professors pass by. 

"Hey! You, hold on a sec!" The water type raised a finger to the students and beckoned Panne and Vallion over. "Ampharos told me to tell you to head up to his office when you finished up. Something about a letter that came in or something? I don't know, it's probably some nonsense administration stuff again, but he was very adamant about it. You better check it out just in case." 

The Delphox grumbled and shifted in the air. "Well whatever it is, it better not cut too deep into lunch. I don't trust Swirlix to leave anything for us." 

"Psh. You're telling me," Floatzel said with a roll of his eyes. "These guys have an expedition for field research in Air Continent tomorrow. Meteorology and whatnot, apparently very much a time-constrained project. Mismagius was supposed to be here to arrange the whole ordeal, and of course he's nowhere to be seen. Like, I'm not the weather guy! I don't know what's up with all that!" 

The Ivysaur shook their head. "Neither is Mismagius. Professor Altaria's already went to Air Continent early without telling anyone." 

"She just does that all the time!" The Beautifly whined. 

"Hah. We know," Panne snickered. "You guys have fun with that. You've got a long couple weeks of independent studies ahead of you if those two are any indication." 

She and Vallion went on their way through the oldest parts of the building. They pressed up the stairs and around the spinning holographic globe responsible for not only the name of this place, but a vast majority of its notoriety. A bumpy texture stuck out from the image where mountain ranges extended into the heavens, the constant change in angle offering an overwhelming amount of detail to the five continents. The world seemed so simple when reduced to such a size. One had to really stop to appreciate the sheer magnitude of work that went into making the Nexus what it looks like today. Even Vallion, who had lived through that process himself, could scarcely feel its enormity anymore. 

Ampharos' office changed shape often despite somehow always feeling the same. Messy, scatterbrained, and without any immediate sense of direction in the slightest. It was the perfect personification of its owner. The only one who could bring any order to this place was Mawile, who just so happened to be attempting to do just that when the two of them arrived, muttering under her breath while Ampharos himself reclined in his chair. 

"You called?" Vallion announced his presence. "Hello, Mawile. Haven't seen you since you went to that conference yesterday. Panne really appreciated those notes you made." 

Shrugging, the Delphox’s eyes locked onto memorabilia that plastered the walls. "I suppose so. It was organized pretty strangely if I had to say anything about it. Had to flip through half the damn thing to get from one thought to the other. 

Mawile pulled at the bright scarlet scarf around her neck, the same that Ampharos himself was currently wearing. "That's because I had to do it all at once on short notice. Maybe if you had given me more warning, I'd have given you a better lecture. We live busy lives, I can't conjure up entire books on geological history in a single night. It would take about three." 

"Hey, hey! No fighting in my office, now." Ampharos' chair squeaked in an expertly distracting way as he leaned forward. His hand landed on what appeared to be the letter in question. "We've all had a stressful and busy month so far. I totally understand. It takes a village to raise a child, and we just so happen to be fostering the growth of the entire next generation, so it gets a little hectic from time to time." 

After a curt nod of agreement just to move the conversation along, the Serperior slithered up and extended a vine over the desk. "I presume that's supposed to be ours, then? It must be something dreadfully important if you had to drag us all the way here for it." 

The headmaster's face went stony. "You'd presume right. Normally I'd just have dropped this in your guys' box and let you sort it out yourselves, but seeing the kind of seal we're dealing with, I couldn't help but feel like I ought to take some extra measures with it. It's not often you see the royal signature of Paradise slapped so boldly on the front of any piece of mail." 

"The what's on there?" Vallion swiped up the letter and held it so that both he and Panne could see. Sure as hell, a blue wax stamp menaced in the very center of the envelope. An insignia of a star peering out from behind the peak of a mountain. Official, straight from the monarchy of Paradise. 

Panne immediately made a sour face and turned away. "Yuck. You read it. I can't be assed to care about what those hoity toity bastards might want." 

Holding in a preparatory breath, Vallion opened up the top and unfolded the letter neatly nestled within. He began to scan over the waterfall of flawless handwriting that sprawled down the page, a nervous stone in the pit of his stomach. 

> Vallion of the Expedition Society, or to whomever can forward this message to him,
> 
> We have not spoken for over a decade. Apart from the obvious reasons as to why, it was simply not something that was necessary. However, times have changed, and I feel that I am about to be forced into a corner which I cannot escape from alone. I have no other places to turn. This is a matter beyond my pride, dignity, and even my regret. The very foundation of Paradise may be at stake if I do not act now. Please understand, Vallion. I am desperate. This is beyond my control and I will soon need your help.

"Bullshit!" Panne spat out from beside him. She had apparently gotten curious and tried to read it over his shoulder, and judging by her exclamation, they were about at the same spot. "If this is from who I think it is, I'm going to totally turn this paper to kindling. You know what? Just set it on the ground when you're done and I'll take care of it." 

The Serperior held the letter away. "Even if it is from him, at least let me read through the whole thing before you go off and make ashes out of it! This sounds like it's at least somewhat important." 

Mawile tilted her head. "Oh? Who’s 'him?’ You've still never told anyone why you both refuse to go to Paradise, you know. They must be from some noble blood if what they're sending has a seal like that." 

"And like I always say, it's complicated and I'm definitely never going to talk about it!" Panne said with a huff. She twisted her staff away and stared off into space in the opposite direction. "Fine. I don't care what the letter says anymore, but I guess it can live for a couple more minutes." 

> Something is lurking in the streets of my city. There is no rhyme or reason in it being here. Its very existence is a dark omen that could spell disaster not just for Paradise, but in a worst case scenario, for the whole world. Fate has something in store for this place in the coming months, and my hunches about these kinds of things are rarely wrong anymore. I write to you not as the Master of Law, but as a fellow human. Keep this in mind when I say that I want to disclose the rest of my thoughts in person.
> 
> On the back of this letter is my full writ of permission. It is your passport, your payment, and your safe passage. This paper can get you from where you stand to Noe Port and well beyond. I will be notified of its use post-haste and should you choose to accept my summons. From there, I will arrange to receive you and we will talk. This offer does count as an official mission, as well. I have already gone through the proper channels. Should you accept, upon reaching whatever conclusion there may be to this issue, there will be a reward for your time. Any payment you might ask will be considered. 
> 
> I beg of you, Vallion. I know that I’m in no position to be asking anything of you, especially with our distant history, but I feel that this could be bigger than the both of us. I want to be wrong. I'd love nothing more than to simply waste your time and pay whatever princely sum you wanted for recompense. That would be such an unbelievable relief to me. Even so, I cannot in good conscience hesitate to send this letter any longer. 
> 
> I am worried. 
> 
> -Alexander

Vallion stared at that name for longer than a few moments. The weight of that word alone made the paper feel three times heavier in his vines. He didn't know what to feel. A couple dozen emotions ran through his head all at once, the most striking of which being sheer disbelief. The fact that he was staring at that handwritten name in the flesh--that this wasn't some strange fever dream--was truly the strangest part. Everything that happened in Poliwrath River all those years ago was such a distant memory that the only evidence of those events seemed to be the faint scar on Panne's chest. And yet, here was this. 

"...Well?" Ampharos broke the silence. 

"We've been summoned to Paradise," the Serperior replied in monotone. 

"I figured that much," the headmaster said. "But what's the occasion? You're looking rather pale underneath your scales, Vallion. Is it that bad?" 

Panne raised her nose. "Since we're probably not going, I don't think it particularly matters. I could go without-" 

"It's a mission," Vallion cut her off. He flipped the letter and scanned the intricate ink stamp that covered most of the back of the page. A full writ of permission, it apparently was. If he used it at all, Alexander was poised to hear about it. "...It might be an important one at that. It’s not quite an emergency, but the way this is worded makes me feel like it could become one very quickly." 

"Do you have any idea how huge Paradise is? They can deal with their own problems!" the Delphox waved a dismissive hand at the matter and started towards the exit. "It's not like we're the only guild that takes missions. And we're already drowning in so many students that we're running introductory courses simultaneously! We’ve got more than enough on our plates. Speaking of which, there's nothing on my freaking plate! Let's get down there before Swirlix swallows a pot whole." 

Taking care not to make any creases in the paper, Vallion folded the human's message and gingerly held it in the grasp of his vestigial hands. He glanced back towards Ampharos on the way out and muttered so that Panne couldn't quite hear. 

"If I do go, can you fit it?" 

The headmaster leaned an elbow on his desk. "It'll be tight, obviously, but maybe I'll manage." 

He took his leave with a brief nod and hurried after his spouse, who had already flown over a Torkoal's head and rushed down the stairs. Well, hurry was a strong word. His appetite had already gone up in a cloud of smoke. 

The desperate words he had just read continued to swirl around in his skull like a tempest, repeating themselves in a voice he no longer remembered. He originally assumed Alexander had met his end up on that hill that fateful morning. It originally came as a surprise all those years back when he heard that the Serperior was still alive in Paradise, but perhaps he hadn't really accepted that fact as reality until now. 

The world around him kept on turning like it normally would regardless. Two currents of movement pulled on opposite ends of the halls--one towards the library installed at the far end of the compound, and the other towards the murmur of idle chatter and the smell of fresh-baked buns and garlic. Panne urged him to move faster with a glance and disappeared around the corner, narrowly avoiding a Staravia with a bag in its talons. 

Even after its expansion, the cafeteria still felt packed on busy days like these. A gloomy grey light filtered in from the curved windows near the roof and shined down on the growing line in front of the kitchen. A bang quickly cascaded into a violent clattering from somewhere behind the counter, silencing the room for several long seconds. Then, without any further context, Swirlix sprung onto her stool and launched the bag that was balanced on her head into a Gallade's arms. 

"Thirty coins! Next!" 

Faculty had the virtue of being able to enter the kitchen to get their lunches right from the source. It certainly would seem like a virtue to most observers, but make no mistake, walking back there was like stepping near the horde of a dragon. Panne and Vallion pressed through the doors and found themselves in a battleground of beige tiles and rolling steam. Swirlix's assistant, an unfortunate Makuhita, rushed about as he struggled to keep track of all the ringing timers. There was no immediate indication as to what that crash even was. 

"Aha! Slaves!" Swirlix called out as she tumbled down from her stool and back into the kitchen. "Quick! Get the ovens! Stir the pots! Earn your share! I run a successful business model!" 

"Yeah yeah I know," Panne said as she already started to pull trays out with her telekinesis. 

The policy was that, if you wanted to assemble your own lunch, you either had to do it without Swirlix knowing or with her direct approval. Approval is a very broad word in this sense, since it referred to where she wouldn't try to bite at your ankles if you left with anything. 

“Ah! The-!” Makuhita started to shout, but Panne had already rushed over to the pot and pulled it away from the burner before it could boil over. 

“B-but what about-!” 

The cheese buns which Vallion had already taken out of the oven, yes. The ends of his vines knotted up inside a pair of oven mitts, the Serperior shot a look of pity at the fighting type before setting in the next batch. He could barely stand to be in this place for more than a handful of minutes, much less an entire lunch rush. 

Sighing with relief, Makuhita let his shoulders slump and wiped at his forehead with a spare rag. “I swear, I’m gonna die in here before I learn how to cook anything.” 

“You think this is hard?!” Swirlix butt in, a bag of coins jingling as it hit the ground beside her stool. “I’ve been doing this for years with no arms! No arms, Makuhita! Put those phalanges to use already and get me another six cinnamon rolls!” 

“Y-Yes boss!” Makuhita said, attempting some gesture caught hopelessly between a bow and a salute. 

The two of them did their piece, took their fill, and escaped back into the mess hall relatively intact. Vallion swallowed a couple rolls whole for maintenance, but was otherwise so far away from the thought of eating that he didn't bother taking anything else. He followed the Delphox over to the corner of the room beneath the dull spotlights of the windows. There, Dedenne and Archeops sat together at the edge of the table, alongside a couple of empty seats that were recently vacated by a handful of questioning students. 

Finishing off the oversized bite of food in her cheek, Dedenne hummed at the newcomers. "Took you two long enough. We're already almost done. Did you guys get lost on the way here or something?" 

"Hardly. Do you see how many pokemon are here today?" Vallion said as he coiled around and onto a seat. "We should be asking you how you managed to get here on time. Floatzel is probably tied up for the next hour." 

Archeops smiled. "I mean, that's what good business is, right? It’s not so bad to have a lot of work to do. I’d rather take up another thirty pokemon to teach environmental sciences than lose thirty." 

"In that case you can take my classes if you want. I barely got time to breathe," Panne muttered just before she went to town on her lunch. 

“At least you’re not studying under Jirachi,” Dedenne said with a hum. “I’ve seen Astrology lessons that should have been two hours long last an entire night. Some of those students take Wonder Orb Tech, too! How can one pokemon ramble on for so long?” 

Without any appetite to concentrate on, Vallion’s eyes wandered off to the far side of the mess hall and glazed over. The letter tucked away in his hands became his center of gravity as he drifted into space. The Serperior liked to think that he knew himself rather well. If he was having this much trouble coming up with a decision, there was no way he wasn't going to take up Alexander's plea. The fact that the answer wasn't immediately no meant that it was eventually going to be yes. What mattered was how he was going to get around to that answer, and how to get around Panne's objections. 

"Not hungry?" Archeops leaned into the Serperior's peripheral vision. 

He shook his head. "Not particularly. I ate a bit already so it's fine." 

"Oh, it's too much! Just look at what this place is doing to us!" Dedenne moaned, a dramatic hand on the cheek that wasn't filled with berries. "Vallion's gone anorexic! Floatzel actually has to do work! Panne had to decipher ancient scripture just to teach anyone anything!" 

The Delphox immediately pointed her finger over, struggling to swallow as quickly as her tongue wanted to move. "See?! See! I'm not the only one that can't read Mawile's stuff! Couldn't she use that typewriter of hers to slap something legible down real quick? How much longer would it have really taken?!" 

"But no seriously," Archeops attempted to continue, his polite chuckling tapering away. "You look a little worse for wear, Vallion. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" 

A stone in his throat, Vallion tucked the letter deeper into his leafy palms. "Just thinking. Got some news that means I might be gone for a few days. Maybe a couple weeks, I don't really know yet." 

Panne's face went sour, but she didn't look particularly surprised. "You're seriously going to go, aren't you? God, someone could be calling for help while clearly holding a knife behind their back and you'd still go up to ask them what's wrong. It should be illegal to write so flowery and imprecise on formal shit like that." 

"You’re seriously going where, now?" Dedenne tilted her head. 

"Paradise," he answered flatly. "On an official mission of some kind. Not much information about it otherwise, but it's apparently all there and proper." 

Archeops pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and winced, his feathers visibly ruffling in displeasure. "Uh oh. You know what that probably is, right? I hear Paradise has been going through all sorts of political trouble after a few demonstrations that started up last year. And that's not to mention how awful a time it is to travel that far north. I assume you weren't given any details because you would've wanted to know them." 

"It's not like we're the only guild that does missions around here. We barely do them anymore anyway," Dedenne said. "You should probably just pass that one along. It’s too much trouble, especially with your schedule. I know how you still wanna go play hero, but let some of the youngsters have a chance for once!" 

"The letter was specifically addressed to him," Panne noted, and followed with a disinterested spoonful of stew. 

"Oh. I suppose that would be different." 

With a nod, the Serperior let his eyes fall to the texture of the table. "It is." 

The mood was beyond repair by that point, so there wasn't much left to do but finish their meals and head back to work. Dedenne groaned as she hobbled off towards Communications for another rousing round of making lesson plans. Archeops lingered a bit longer, but his presence was soon needed in the library, and so off he fluttered as well. 

Panne and Vallion left shortly after. The halls were significantly clearer now that all the streams of students had enough time to diffuse. There wasn't a single soul nearby the compass rose, and what few were in sight were mostly moving away. Distant conversations could be heard bouncing off the stone floors, but it was otherwise silent. 

"So," Panne began with a stretch of her arms. "What should we expect to bring on an urban mission we know nothing about?" 

The Serperior shot her a sideways glance. "We? I never said you had to come. You clearly don't want to, anyway." 

"Are you kidding, Val? Don't you remember the one and only time I left you with that guy alone? I don't care if we were just kids at that point, I'm never letting anything like that happen again." 

Having suddenly gotten bored of supporting herself using her telekinesis, the Delphox snapped up her staff in one hand and wrapped her other arm around Vallion's neck. He momentarily buckled under her weight, but it was one he was well accustomed to carrying. 

"Besides, you think I'm just gonna let you sneak out so that you can leave me with all of your work, too? Hell no. We're gonna leave it to Floatzel." 

"You do realize he's going to absolutely freak out on us the second he finds out we're gone, right?" 

Her ears bounced forward, bumping the side of his head as she bared a fanged grin. "I'm gonna have my gadget off for like three days when we leave. I know it usually takes him a week to cool down but if you let him build up a bunch of responses he'll spit them all out at once and it's super funny." 

"Geez. Give the guy a break, will you? He's got enough on his plate as is." 

"Yeah, right! What about our plates?! Now we've got to save a city or whatever it is that snaky bastard wants us to do! Or maybe not, depending on how I feel about it. Hmph!" 

He shot her a frown. “Am I a snaky bastard?” 

“He’s the most bastardy of snakes. You’re the most snaky of bastards.” 

Vallion let a small chuckle escape his chest as he dragged his wife along. In spite of the terrible, seemingly unavoidable feeling in his gut, there was some comfort in knowing that he wasn't alone. Not that he ever particularly wanted to face Alexander regardless of the circumstances. He exhaled slowly, his scarf squeezing at the newfound tension in the base of his neck. 

Maybe he had gotten a little too comfortable with this job. A mission like this hardly compared to the kinds of things he'd gone through in the past. He was probably getting worked up over nothing. This was going to be fine.


	3. A Greetings of Bitter Winds

Vallion couldn't remember the last time he had felt sea sick. He could have practically lived on a boat and dealt with it just fine. Now, though, while coiled up in a dusty cabin with nothing but the strangled light of a narrow window near the ceiling to see by, his insides had suddenly decided to twist into knots. He swallowed his saliva and bore through it all the same, but the cause wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. His inner compass was adamant that they were starting to approach Mist Continent, and a reunion he very much didn't want to partake in. 

"Don't freak out so much," Panne whispered. She couldn't exactly lean into him any more than she already was, so she pushed up higher onto the cot and started to rub at the back of his neck. 

"You can tell?" 

"Of course I can tell. You're an open fucking book." 

He pointed his nose upwards and pressed into the back wall, now very conscious about how loud he had been gasping. "Maybe. I just never thought I would have to get something like this over with. I don’t even care about how vague the mission is at this point. It’s the person we’re getting it from that gets under my scales." 

"Yeah well I don't like it either, but you're the one who wanted to come all this way. Can’t exactly turn back now." She exhaled out her nose, her ears brushing at his torso as they twisted back. "The stuffiness in here probably isn’t helping your stomach much. Let's head topside for a bit. Maybe it'll clear your head." 

Fair enough. They had been cooped up in here for quite some time, after all. Stretching the muscles of his body in one continuous wave, Vallion unraveled himself and descended from the warmth of the bed. Panne wrapped her arms and good leg around him like a backpack as they set off. A surface that constantly shifted and churned wasn't the best for her to levitate over, and hobbling around using her staff as a crutch was even worse. 

The passenger ship they managed to catch wasn't too terrible. A little on the cheaper side if he was being honest, but there weren't many ships taking people north this time of year. Unless you wanted to ride among mountains of cargo along a trade route, that is. The vacant stares of the crew as they trudged by suggested that this particular ship never rested in port for too long. A Grotle with spools of rope stored around the bushes on its back regarded the Serperior with an interested glance, but likely stopped caring the moment they passed one another. 

The same gloomy grey that filtered in through their window had been waiting for them at the stairway to the deck. Vallion stuck his head out into the open air and immediately grimaced at the biting breeze that blew at his eyes and flew down his back. He felt Panne shudder from the same gust. 

"Ah! Geez! Yep, we're north alright," she grunted, her breath already visible as little puffs in his peripheral vision. "I'm so glad I grew out my dress for the winter. It really helps that I haven't had to go out into any forests and get it caught on everything." 

"Long fur. Lucky you." 

She flicked at his collar. "Aw, don't feel bad! Just keep me on your back the whole time and I'll keep like a third of you warm." 

It didn't seem like any of the other passengers were out right now. With the weather the way it was, that wasn't surprising. Flakes of half-formed snow sparsely flitted down from the thick clouds, dancing onto the deck and melting just as soon as they landed. The icy specks were most visible when looking straight up, as a majority of them either blended into the environment's faded colors or fell into the all-encompassing blue of the ocean. 

While a little unpleasant to adjust to, the fresh, cold air did end up helping calm Vallion's nerves. He went to the railing and let Panne hop down beside him, careful to make sure she made it to the support despite how she brushed him away in annoyance. 

Lively City's weather would look rather close to this about a month from now, which is why it was so unfortunate that they went and plunged straight into it a month early. Neither of them were too keen on winter. Vallion had trouble dealing with body temperature whereas Panne was obscenely against getting wet--and being so close to the ocean in a place called Water Continent, rain and cold air were in no short supply. 

"To think that a freaking Serperior has been living even farther north than this all his life," Panne muttered. "God. No wonder he wanted Poliwrath River so bad. Probably couldn't stand to live up there any longer." 

Vallion looked away to chuckle. "Probably don't say that to his face, though." 

"Psh. I'll say whatever I want to his face. What's he gonna do, give the mission to someone else? Bastard's practically begging at your metaphysical feet for help. It's not like he doesn't deserve worse from me." 

"I mean, let's mostly try to be civil at first. I'm not saying he's not got a clean slate with us, but we're still technically doing a job. Might as well act like we're professionals." 

"I still can't believe we're doing this," she said off to the side, much to the tune of his internal feelings on the matter. 

They ended up going topside at the perfect time, after all. Through the distant haze that enshrouded the horizon poked a few strands of land, which eventually grew into an entire coastline. The pine trees were so green that they almost seemed black from this distance. There were a few patches of white from a recent snowfall that had melted away and reformed back into ice. Jagged stone spires jut out from the waves and condensed on the edges of the gravel beaches. Stark, harsh, and immediately uninviting. Mist Continent. 

Buildings came into view before long. Mostly wooden shacks and tiny houses, far out of the way of actual civilization. The fact that they were there at all was a sign that they were close. The shoreline rose into a basalt cliff with more raggedy buildings overlooking the sea. Eventually the architecture started to mix stone brickwork into the cedarwood planks. A few pokemon could be seen from up along the ridge, staring down at the new arrival or simply continuing on with their lives. A Sealeo sidled up to the ledge and dove straight into the water at one point. Apparently they knew a spot where the bottom wasn't littered with rocks. 

A few more passengers began to emerge from their cabins when the piers came into view. Noe Port wasn't exactly abuzz with activity, but it certainly didn't seem to pay the dreary weather anymore mind than usual. Always eager to serve as maritime capital of Paradise's territory and the epicenter of its worldly commerce, a dozen other ships were already either docked or were in the process of docking. It definitely had a different feel from Lively City's ports. Similar in size, but there was this intangible importance on the trade, like the whole town would suddenly disappear if the traffic ever stopped. 

"So..." Panne tried to begin, but seemed to lose her words in the moment. 

"Halfway there," Vallion decided to finish whatever thought it was that had been left to hang. "Come on. Let's see if this piece of paper really can take us the full way on its own." 

They hadn't packed much for the journey. A couple of bags at most, carrying what was essentially a casual night on the town's worth of supplies and tools. Their gadgets, maybe a snack or two, and some powdered medicine in case Panne got a headache from moving around too much. Some passengers carried a similarly light burden, and some had none at all. There were a few that seemed to have moved their whole lives into trunks that the crewmates had to carry up. How many of these travelers were just visiting this land? How many came to stay the rest of their lives? You could never tell these days, now that settling down was the common thing to do. 

With the ship immobile for the most part, Panne hopped onto her staff and followed Vallion down the gangplank. He withdrew the fateful letter from a corner pocket of his bag and held it carefully in his tiny hands to shield it from the snow. They came to a small checkpoint out on the edge of the docks before heading into Noe Port proper. Whatever contraband the appointed Combusken needed to search for in their bags, a brief flash of the seal apparently said enough to have them sent on their way with a nervous haste. Nobody wanted to be the person that held up official matters. 

The Delphox overtook him, her ears pointed forward as she took in the first sights of the town. "God, we haven't actually been here in a few years, have we? I feel like it's changed so much but I barely even remember it to begin with." 

While the ascending sets of stone walls and staircases seemed the same, there were certainly some developments that had taken place over the original foundations. The town had spread quite a bit farther onto the mountain than Vallion remembered. Much of the expansion had taken place on "steps" of vertical walls and flattened ground that crawled around the curvature of the landscape. The terraces only went a handful of levels up, but were aggressively wide and wrapped around the hill and out of sight--at least from this low angle. It was definitely much larger since he last saw it. 

Further up the cascading sets of stairs, Panne struggled with her things while trying to keep up with him. "Where are we going from here again? They've got a train station, right? Did we even check to see if there was one heading to Paradise today?" 

"I just assumed that there was always one ready to head there, since this seemed like a pretty major railway," Vallion said. 

"Was that sarcasm? That better have been sarcasm. We didn't just leave without planning this out?" 

He smirked off to the side, concentrating on the cracks in the masonry instead. "It's not that crazy of an assumption, is it?" 

"Un-fucking-believable. You're paying for the inn if you're wrong. I won't even let you get away with using that letter, either." 

A winding street lined with stalls and shops supposedly would lead them to the station, according to the signs at least. Business wasn't exactly booming that day, so they had plenty of space along what should have been a main artery of the town. The few pokemon that did fly over or walk along the street tended to gravitate towards the wafting promise of hot food. While Vallion tasted plenty of appetizing scents on his tongue, anxiety had started to set in again. Perhaps on the way back he'd take a stroll through some of the local cuisine--see how it's changed or how it hasn't. Maybe they could take some crafts back home as souvenirs. 

Other roads from different terraces seemed to converge with this one in a narrow valley between two hills. The land had been flattened or filled in for the most part, resulting in an uncharacteristically level section of buildings. He recalled that this particular valley made for the cleanest passage to the plateau on the other side, and had been used by essentially everyone that went through this way into the mainland. Now, there were railways built into the sides of the mountain where that very pass used to be, and an impressively long brick building where the beginning of it once was. 

"There we go," Vallion remarked out loud, mostly just to talk himself out of his nerves. "If this is anything like our stations, I'm guessing we can find some times posted somewhere up there. I don't know if-" 

Red eyes. 

The Serperior stopped at the sight of another one of his kind. His whole body tensed up to the point that he could feel his scales grind against the ground from the graceless contractions. Every instinct in his body screamed to meet the pokemon's glare head-on, his eyes forced so wide that the cold wind began to sting. Still, he found himself locked in an irresistible contest of intimidation. A master of territory and an intruder. The bitter greeting of two Serperior. 

He was no longer a child. He would not shy away from that gaze again. 

Alexander bowed his head and blinked, and suddenly it was as if the whole world flooded back all in at once. Vallion would've stumbled if he had legs to stand on. He dizzily turned to Panne, who shot as nasty of a scowl as she could make towards the other Serperior, but it was still nowhere near as meaningful as the eye contact that was just exchanged. 

"Well look who's early!" she snarled, her neck nearly horizontal and her ears laid flat. "What are you doing all the way down here? I thought the problem was in Paradise! Last I checked, Noe Port ain't part of this!" 

"I grew impatient, I admit. I came as soon as I heard that my seal had been used." 

The voice Vallion heard was gravely and tired--completely unlike the prideful bellow he expected to hear. Actually, now that he had zoomed out from the vicious pair of eyes, it was hard to believe that this creature was the same Alexander he once knew. A war's worth of scars and old wounds covered the Serperior's body, punctuated by a crooked posture of an injury that nearly went too far. That lack of symmetry continued up to a missing chunk out of their left collar. Their bright greens had long since faded into an autumn of yellow-tinged scales and pale skin. Humans were still mortal, even heroes in this world. 

Vallion gulped at the lump in his throat. "So you decided to meet us halfway?" 

With a brief nod, Alexander looked back up. Their eyes were far more narrow now, almost like they were locked in a perpetual squint when not staring down trespassers. "I apologize for my rude behavior there. There have been Serperior in the past who were foolish enough to think that they could challenge me for my territory, like we would do in the wilderness. I have made it a habit to deal with them on their own terms. I...rarely see others of our species in any other context, so it was rather reflexive." 

"I, um. I don't think I've ever had that problem, but I suppose it's alright?" 

"Come." Alex gestured with a flick of his nose and slithered around towards the mouth of the station. "You have arrived at a fortuitous time. The train is departing in half an hour, and I will no longer have to delay it. We will begin our discussion there." 

Panne and Vallion shared a cautious look before starting after their old enemy's sideways slither. The station itself was more just a collection of walls surrounding a few small buildings. A small gathering of moderately-sized pokemon--two Togekiss, a Persian, and a Sawk--stood on the far end of the parked train in front of a windowed booth. On the other end of the station seemed to be cars to accommodate larger species, which he noticed just in time to see the tail of a Flygon disappear into the locomotive. Even further back beyond that, it seemed that cargo and goods were being loaded onto storage cars. 

"You may enter and choose a cabin at your leisure," Alexander spoke without glancing back at them. "I have to inform the conductor that we will be leaving on time after all. Then, I will seek you out." 

Once the Serperior hobbled out of their immediate earshot, Panne leaned in close. "Okay it's seriously weird that he knew exactly when we were going to show up, right? Like, and that he was willing to delay this station's whole schedule for us?" 

Vallion rolled his tongue and hummed. "I'm just going to say that he's very organized and not think about it." 

The two of them approached the appropriately-accommodating cars and slipped into the end of the queue. With all the fervor of a wet stone, a Boldore siphoned the passengers in one by one until they finally got to the end of the line. Their expression wasn't exactly telling, but the tone of their voice suggested that the dry insides of that booth were the only destination they cared about. 

"Tickets?" 

The Delphox hissed. "Oh great. Do we have to wait for that overripe banana to get back here?" 

"Probably not," Vallion muttered as he unraveled the writ of permission. "I'm assuming this works as a pair of tickets. Am I wrong?" 

The Boldore jumped in place, the shrill impact of their front feet exceptionally loud against the stone. "Ah! You're the guests we were meant to wait for! Why don't you- You can just- Just head inside, no tickets! Anywhere's free! Find a seat anywhere, please!" 

While the sudden enthusiasm was more unnerving than reassuring, they just nodded and continued up the stairway into the interior. It would be a stretch to say that the train was particularly inviting. A row of lanterns added a much-needed warm light to the gloom that came in from the windows, but it didn't do much to help the function-over-form style the whole place had. The central steel walkway was sandwiched between militant patches of carpeting, presumably to help somewhat with the uncomfortable-looking seats that seemed barely upholstered. The wooden parts and tables weren't even polished or sanded. To be fair, the place was totally spotless, and there was a pleasant lavender smell to distract from the inevitable coal smoke. 

They chose a seat somewhere apart from any other passengers, of which there weren't many to begin with. Vallion collected himself along the length of a rather hard bench so that Panne could set herself down right in the middle of his coils. Hopefully it wouldn't be too long of a ride to Paradise. It wasn't just that these conditions were rather grim, it's that he had to endure them for the whole duration while across from Alexander. Panne's sour moods had a habit of rubbing off on him after a while. 

Speak of the devil. With a methodical sluggishness, the crooked Serperior inched his way down the aisle and came to the seat opposite of them. He slotted himself into the booth without a word and directed his razor eyes out the window. 

"We will be leaving shortly." 

The air went heavy. This moment was so simple in the theoretical versions he dreamed up while laying awake in the ship, but now that he was here, what was he supposed to say? Was it really that easy to brush away the past and get to the point? This human, and all that he's done--and what he nearly did. Time didn't just wash those actions into the sea. Two evolutions didn't mend the scar on her chest. Hopefully this wasn’t a mistake. 

Panne didn't care so much for the dead air. She whistled a bit, still glaring daggers at the pokemon across from them. "Hey. This little writ of yours seems like some pretty serious stuff. I would've thought that people'd get annoyed at seeing it, but most of them piss their pants and shoo us on as soon as physically possible. What's the deal with that?" 

Alexander's eyes swiveled towards her. He took in a deep breath and wet his tongue. "Several winters ago, Reinhardt's queen fell ill with a ghastly sickness that grew worse with time. I sent urgent summons to some of the greatest healers to travel these lands: a caravan led by a famous Audino titled Saint Moony. Near the end of their race towards the capital, a patrolling squad of guards stopped them against my explicit written word and searched the wagons for smuggled goods. They found none, and burned an hour and a half for nothing. By the time Saint Moony made it to Paradise, His queen was in critical condition. Any later and she would have surely perished." 

"Oh." The word fell from the Delphox's mouth. 

"Those guards," he continued in monotone, now fully turned to face the two of them. "They were stripped of both their positions and their pensions. Their commanding officer faced trial for obstructing royal duties and the near-death of the queen. He did not fare well. And so, with that demonstration of power, word spread throughout the kingdom that my writ was not to be questioned. I am pleased to hear that it continues to have that effect." 

A nervous chuckle at the top of his throat, Vallion lowered his head. "Well that's...a bit gruesome. But I suppose you've made your point in the end." 

Even Alexander's grin looked crooked. "It's not a topic I would have personally opened with, but it was a question I was more than willing to answer. And speaking of questions, I'm sure you have plenty as to why you're here, and this ride will surely be long enough for all of them." 

Right on cue, a great shudder ran through the metal bones of the train. A grinding noise began to vibrate up from the floor into their seats. Before long, a cloud of black smoke could be seen rising from if he looked from just the right angle in the window. Another shudder later, the train's shrill horn pierced the mountainside and echoed for miles around. Brief flurries of clicking sounds coupled with a disorienting lurch, followed by a feeling of vertigo that he quickly got used to. Noe Port slowly started to move away. 

Vallion took in what felt like the thousandth preparatory breath just today and turned his eyes back to Alexander. "Let's start with the obvious, then. You didn't actually say what the big problem was in the letter you sent. Why is it that we came all this way?" 

After briefly scanning their immediate surroundings, the ragged Serperior gave him a frown. "I believe that there is a human in Paradise." 

"Well gee. Ya think?" Panne remarked. 

"Besides me, I mean. A new human, one that has been brought into this world more recently than you or I. It’s not possible for me to know how long they’ve lived here, nor could I pinpoint an exact source of their arrival, but my suspicions remain." 

A hum stuck at the bottom of Vallion's throat. That was certainly one of the theories he had pulled from the vague letter. It just wasn't the first one he would have guessed to be true. 

"But what's the emergency?" he said. "As interesting as it is that there might be another human among us, why is this a thing of such concern that you would call on me of all people? Your message sounded like the world was about to end." 

A cruel chuckle slipped over Alexander's tongue. "But that's just it. Humans only appear in times of great strife, this I know for certain. You should know more than anyone that ours is a grueling fate. We have already lived through and conquered our destinies, you and I, but what of a newcomer? I haven't felt any apocalyptic stakes since Dark Matter nearly destroyed the world, and while I don’t necessarily feel them now, the very appearance of this human suggests that might change soon. Wouldn't you agree, Vallion?" 

"I…" he trailed off a moment. "I suppose you're not wrong. I can't say I've heard any stories of notable humans that didn’t involve some sort of terrible event. Even the folk tales tend to end poorly." 

"Aha! I get it!" Panne exclaimed, tapping a claw to the side of her head. "You're not as dumb as you used to be! You had us come here so we could all combine our experience and team up with this human to take on whatever's coming! That's not too bad of an idea. With all of us around, there's no way it'll catch us off-guard." 

"If only it were that simple," Alexander said with a shake of his head. "I don't think they will be joining forces with me anytime soon. In fact, they made multiple threats on my life, as well as pledged to steal the throne from Reinhardt following my death. And that's before they claimed to be human." 

"Claimed?" the Delphox grumbled. "Wait a minute. They just _claimed_ to be human? Is that what we’re supposed to be working with? Anyone can do that! How do you know that they're one for sure? Or did you just drag us out here on a fucking hunch?" 

"My hunches are rarely wrong. Of course, my reasoning mostly lies in that nobody has any reason to make such a claim in the first place. The cost of doubting them seemed far worse in the case that they were right." 

"That's what you meant in the latter part of your message, right?" Vallion said. 

The Serperior nodded. "I want to be wrong. I would rather waste your time and have to pay you a full reward than ignore the possible problem and tempt fate. If this pokemon is a pretender after all, it would bring me so much peace of mind." 

"This is really stupid, you know that? I left behind so many plans and lectures for this," spat Panne, shifting her weight around on Vallion's coils. "You don't even know if the reason why you summoned us even exists. We might as well be chasing tavern rumors at this point." 

"What if he's right, though?" Vallion softly suggested. 

"Oh hell no. You're not gonna believe him about this, are you? Like, _him_ of all people? Don't you remember what happened last time we listened to him?" 

"I'm still directly in front of you," said Alexander without a pang of emotion. "And yes, I am fully aware of the context of what I'm asking of you. Like I said, this is not personal. This is a mission. There is a threat looming over my city's head and I want it identified. Would you not send an inspector if you were suspicious about the structural safety of a bridge? It would be foolish to wait until after the bridge has collapsed to check." 

Outside the window, a white countryside began to roll by as the train passed into some foothills. The mountains blocked the warmer temperatures that blew in from the sea and left flawless fields of snow on the other side. The clouds were rather thin above their heads, but up ahead there were much darker blotches waiting for them, surely already sprinkling the landscape with another few inches of ice. How did the trains plow through this stuff so casually? Weather like this completely grounded the ones in Water Continent, even if they were a little more comfortable to sit in. 

“Val,” Panne whispered as she leaned in and tapped him on the collar. “Quit spacing out and back me up here!” 

“Just thinking to myself,” he replied after a while. Alexander’s expression remained unchanged from when he last looked--as tired as ever. “...Yeah. I mean, there’s no reason not to follow through with this. We’re the ounce of prevention to stop something that would take a million pounds of cure. It’s worth the risk just to see.” 

Alexander lifted his head. “Exactly. The largest city in the world cannot afford to go through something so dire that it would require a human to combat it. The damage would be irreparable if not prevented. I knew we would see eye-to-eye on this.” 

“Oh shut up! You’re so fucking manipulative, just like you always were! Of course Val’s gonna agree with you when you keep on talking about it like that!” 

“Do you think he’s wrong, though?” Vallion asked. 

To that, the Delphox crossed her arms and bent her ears straight backwards. “I mean, no! Obviously he has a point! I just- I don’t want that point to come from his mouth, and for you to fit right into it again. We’re already here and we’re getting a reward anyway, so we might as well just go through with this shit, but I don’t feel good about it either way.” 

“I cannot change the past,” Alexander said. “I would ask if there was a way to earn your trust for just this one instance, but considering how you’re acting, I doubt I could do much.” 

She shook her head. “Nope. Nothing from you. But you know what does make me feel better about this? It’s the fact that, this time, we’re on equal footing. If you so much as try to pull on him with those Master of Law puppet strings of yours, you will not survive the attempt. I don’t care who comes down on my head for it.” 

“Hmph.” The ragged Serperior blinked, irritation flashing through his expression for just a second before it returned to neutrality. “Fair enough. But you will take this mission, correct?” 

“It better be worth my time is all I’m saying. We’re in charge of teaching the next generation of scholars and explorers, not twiddling our thumbs in the compound waiting for something to happen.” 

“Of course. This was not an easy decision for me to make, either. My only hope is that this potential disaster is diffused swiftly so that I can send you back on your way, and I can return to my duties.” 

Vallion’s tongue idly flicked at the odor of black smoke and sterile upholstery. The tension had subsided, for the most part. With this mess of a conversation finally behind him, he could finally focus on the task at hand. 

“Speaking of that,” he said. “A little context would be nice. I’d like to hear the story of how you came to have these assumptions and worries in the first place. What happened with the pokemon that claimed to be a human, and why did you come to believe them?” 

Alexander cleared his dry throat once more. “I figured that was the next stage of this discussion. Very well. I will fetch a steward for a drink of water first, and then you will hear of the incident that took place in the capitol building over a week ago. There is more than enough track left.”


	4. Welcome To Paradise

While they had technically been within Paradise’s territory for several hours already, the real thing hadn’t come into view until now. The train barreled past square holes in the hills where quarries had been abandoned for the season. Just on the edge of where the meadows had begun their transformation into tundra, the scaffolding of an ever-expanding city could be seen. They plowed right on past half-developed buildings and piles of supplies as they rode into the valley. 

Vallion couldn’t even see the end of it. Paradise went on as the eyes could see, and his partial view of it still spanned all the way to the northern glaciers. The city had filled the space it was born in, crawled partially up the mountains, and spilled outwards through passes between them. To hear that it was the largest gathering of pokemon on the globe was one thing, but to see its vastness in the flesh--even through the foggy window of a rickety train--was breathtaking. 

“What the hell..?” Panne muttered to herself, her reflection in the glass peering at the same sight. “And I thought Lively City was supposed to be huge.” 

“It is plenty large,” Alexander responded flatly. “It simply isn’t the largest.” 

The tracks followed up the side of a hill and gave Vallion a slightly better angle. Hundreds upon hundreds of rooftops flew by, their angled tiles optimal for guiding the accumulating snow into gutters on the sides of the roads. The upper half of his vision was occupied with a boundless sea of grey, dotted by the approach of innumerable snowflakes. The train held heat in well enough, but even just sitting this close to the window, he could feel the warmth being sapped straight through the glass. He didn’t need the heat pits on his snout to tell him how damn cold it was. 

Eventually, the train began to slow down. More detail began to pop out of the environment that once blurred by. The passing faces of countless species of pokemon was the most striking thing. In addition to those who might be at home in this kind of weather, there were insects and grass types and all manner of fragile builds. Small swarms of Dustox flitting about from beneath the shelter of a row of overhanging roofs. A Lurantis looking out their window with a somewhat bored expression. A Donphan with furniture strapped to their back being guided along by a Clefairy. And that was all just within a minute of travel. 

The brakes screeched. The station was just ahead. Alexander coughed into a vine and began to unfurl himself from his seat. “This is our stop. Pick yourselves up and follow me. We will not be departing with the rest of the passengers.” 

Panne had to support herself with a nearby pole while Vallion unwound the knot he found himself in. She attempted to hop up onto her staff early, which nearly swerved right out from under her despite the train’s speed. Grumbling, she waited for her husband to emerge so that she could hop onto his back instead. 

“Why aren’t we leaving the train like normal people, again?” she asked the crooked Serperior as they started to travel forward along the cars. 

He hissed back in a hushed tone barely audible above the rumbling of the engines they were approaching. “It will be better the less people see you arrive. There are eyes all over this town. Not all of them are mine.” 

The apparent benefit of looking as strikingly unique and menacing as Alexander is that nobody really dared to question his presence. Other than a confused glance from a steward or worker, they wandered straight through areas that would be well off-limits to any regular passenger. Just as the train finally came to a stop, they entered the engine room. 

The smell of smoke was so pungent in here that it made Vallion want to immediately recoil. Black grime was smudged in all manner of places. The whole ceiling’s color was stained dark, blotches of smoke residue like clouds on the walls. There stood the two pokemon who were responsible for getting them this far. A Magmar, who leaned on the edge of the furnace’s door, and a Coalossal, who was actually inside the furnace. 

“Eh?” the Magmar snorted. “What’s this here?! We only just stopped! Don’t go bringin’ me any problems ‘til the- Oh. It's you, I-" 

"We are exiting from this car." Alexander hardly spared them a glance before he gestured towards the metal door. 

The Coalossal gave a bellowing grunt from within the hollow acoustics of the furnace. "Whatever, boss. Nobody's gonna stop you. I ain’t losin’ my job for shit." 

The stark transition from the residual heat of the engine into the bitter cold outside was overwhelming. Panne shivered so hard she sprung from Vallion's back and landed on her suspended staff, immediately eager to get to wherever it was they were going as fast as possible. 

Vallion immediately felt his frame begin to lock up from the cold. The Master of Law, despite being the same species as him, didn't so much as wince. 

"Follow me closely. We must reach the capitol building, and we must do so as covertly as possible. I would prefer to keep my well-laid plans as pristine as possible." 

"It b-better not be the fu-fucking long way around!" Panne managed to stutter out from between chattering teeth. 

The three of them skulked away from the train and around the back end of the busy station, further away from the distant chatter. The banners of Paradise flew high in rows along the marble columns, a summit and star for every few meters. They slipped seamlessly into the shadows of a doorway meant for employees and somehow managed to pop out the back of the entire building moments later. 

"You must take this route often," Vallion commented, blinking at the heavy snowflakes that fell near his eyes. 

Alexander shook his head. "I have no problem with the public if that’s what you’re wondering. Even if my presence does seem to unnerve most people these days. I simply helped build this station is all." 

What they saw certainly wasn't the pearly stone boulevards that Paradise was so commonly associated with. These were the back streets. Garbage bins and industrial waste in barrels. Cruder brickwork not fit for main streets. The ugly backs of the tall buildings, destined to get little sunlight and even less public care. Who cared if the alleys were muddled with grime and moss and mildew? There was simply too much to clean. Too many corners to bother. 

Vallion grit his teeth as he pressed through the muddy slush, the stinging in his lower body wrapping back around to numbness. Ugh. too cold to bother, too. 

Panne snickered and shuddered at the same time. "Nice city s-snake. Very clean." 

Glaring through the shadows of offshoot roads, Alexander huffed a cloud of mist from his nose. "This isn’t a place I’d recommend going on a tour of the city, but to be frank, I don't really care. You have a job to do here, the conditions don't need to match the description." 

"Y-you know you haven't actually s-s-said what our job is yet, right? We know about t-the Weavile and that's it! Ow, my fucking tongue!" 

"I haven't given the last details of your mission for the same reason that I chose to crawl through this gutter of an alley instead of simply walking out in broad daylight." 

Vallion nudged his head towards the Delphox. "Have some patience, dear. We're almost there, I think. I'm sure they keep their hearths warm as hell around here. At least they better." 

She spat into a muddy clump of snow and muttered. "Broad daylight. Tch. What fucking d-daylight? It's almost dusk and I haven't seen a single beam of sun grace an inch of this c-continent." 

They passed under an arched bridge that connected two much more prominent streets on their way through the underbelly. It mostly affirmed Vallion's suspicion that this was more like a drainage ditch than an actual road. Beneath the stone arches were all manner of graffiti and other sorts of creative vandalism. Whole messages and replies. Territory markings--some recent and some erased. A few illegible tags in paint and claw that surely represented something at one point. 

Alexander lingered for a moment in that glimpse into the underworld before he continued on. A few extra corners later, the dirty passage opened up with a worn set of stairs upwards. They pressed up back into the city proper and were welcomed with a sight so starkly different that it felt like they had just stepped off yet another engine room into the cold. 

A large lake shimmered from the very center of the city, consumed from all sides by civilization. It calmly reflected a distortion of the darkening clouds, all the way up to the very opposite shore where the distant glimmer of freshly-lit oil street lamps twinkled like the stars the sky lacked. Blue and orange, and an omnipresent white. The fringes of the water had begun to freeze. 

"We should be well and enough alone now," said Alexander, hobbling through the untouched blanket of snow and revealing the bricks beneath. Vallion tried to follow in his continuous footstep, if only to minimize the amount of his body that was touching ice. It didn’t particularly help much, though, and he still had to pick up the pace and cut corners to keep up. The cold made his muscles stiff and unresponsive. 

Panne hummed. "Oil lamps, huh? Still using those, are you? We've been on bulbs for years. We even got some special lamps in the middle of town designed by one of Jirachi's older students. Long-lasting super-efficient luminous orbs. Only gotta change them out once every couple of weeks." 

You could practically hear Alexander's eyelids twitch in annoyance. "And is there something wrong with oil lamps?" 

"They just don't have that unique blue glow like wonder orbs do. You see one lamp, you’ve seen ‘em all." 

"You sound warmer," Vallion tried to steer the conversation away. 

She shot him a chattering grin. "If I get him angry enough to melt the snow, I won't die of exposure before we make it to the other side of town." 

A sigh rolled around Alexander's head as a visible cloud of mist. "I see your mouth hasn't gotten any smaller over the years. If you're trying to get me to act out, Panne, I assure you that there are pokemon around here who have a much more colorful vocabulary when it comes to their opinions of me." 

"Hmph. Deservedly so, I’d say..." Panne turned her head and went back to glaring at the waves. 

Although most of the scenery was buried in several inches of snow, it was plain to see how much more attention this part of town got. Beyond the handful of statues and the nearly-frozen fountain by some winter hedges, even the metal lamp posts were artistically designed--though the style seemed more brutal and simplistic than beautiful. It made sense considering the kinds of buildings they were walking past. Offices, guild headquarters, courthouses--all manner of important real estate. 

Spotting the capitol building out of the bunch wasn’t particularly difficult in any way. They had been seeing it for a while now, actually, since the place towered over its neighbors for several stories. The same brutal artistry in the lampposts could be seen in the walls of the building, with flat pillars and harsh shadows all the way to the tip of the spire. And of course there were more banners bearing the symbol of Paradise. There could never be enough of those. 

The street widened into a promenade, its far edges adorned with lanterns and dignified rows of winter trees. He could practically feel the vibrations of past parades as they approached the wide circular stairway which led into the palace proper. Several guards in custom-fit armor saluted their approach, and none were particularly small species. The least intimidating of the bunch was a Sylveon who still somehow managed to pry open the heavy maplewood doors with nothing but two ribbons and a disciplined nod. 

More guards were waiting for them inside, along with a welcome flood of warm air--which admittedly was less welcome after his skin began to burn. Alexander shooed them away and went about slithering his crooked slither through the marbled halls. They passed what seemed like the entrance to the throne room, but Vallion was so concentrated on the strangely jagged architecture that he just missed it. 

"Hopefully everything is in place," Alexander mumbled to himself as he nearly outpaced his guests. "If not, it will be more difficult to explain what I want to happen. The time for action is soon, I assure you two. So long as my arrangements haven't fallen through." 

"I'm just happy to finally be inside," Panne spoke out loud, then leaned over to Vallion in hushed tones. "You think they got decent food around here? Like yeah, it's the palace, but god it's in the middle of nowhere. What's this place even known for, burnt toast?" 

The room they entered gave the immediate impression of being some sort of administration office, except it was a huge, open chamber and the polished wooden desks were all laid out in a strange circular pattern. The center of the room was a huge chimney that led all the way past the roof, with a burning hearth serving as both a supporting pillar and a source of heat. The smell of the kindling mingled with the sterile scent of the carpeting. Cozy, though perhaps a little too much for a place of paper pushing. 

Not more than a few paces into the room, Alexander was beset upon by a Ribombee wearing the tiniest pair of spectacles ever created. An Illumise trailed shortly after, holding an overfilled clipboard and panting for breath. 

“Sir, you’ve returned,” the Ribombee spoke up immediately in monotone, then gestured towards the mountain of papers carried by their exhausted intern. “There are several documents that require your immediate attention. It’s for the bill regarding the water supply issue with East District and its surrounding suburbs. Additionally, there are several less-urgent requests that came in earlier at the bottom of the pile. Mostly matters with the distribution of food this year.” 

The crooked Serperior suppressed a groan. “I’ve only been gone most of one day, Ribombee. Does my work really pile up so quickly while I’m away?” 

She replied with a bow of her head. “These are tumultuous times for Paradise, sir. So much is coming to a head, and I only manage the order in which we address these problems, not the rate at which they arrive. ‘Tis best we deal with them as they come. Illumise, open the ink bottle.” 

“Will you at least wait until I have dealt with this business first?” Alexander said with a frown. “And what of Linoone? I sent word to have him arrive here at dusk, yet I do not see him anywhere. Surely you haven’t forgotten that he is an informant and left him at the door, have you?” 

Ribombee opened their mouth to speak, but immediately whipped their head downwards in a midair bow. The Illumise followed shortly, bonking their head on the clipboard in the process. Vallion turned to see a Chesnaught approach out the corner of his eye. Their colors had begun to fade as well, the green hues of their shell and arms infused with an aged grey. Unlike the narrow face of their fated partner, their weathered expression seemed to diffuse any hostility before it could even arise. Their fur was partially wet as if hastily dried not minutes ago. 

“You’re back already, Alex?” Reinhardt’s brow raised, a harmless smile on their face. “You must’ve given me your worst-case scenario when I asked how long you would be gone. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little more optimistic sometimes.” 

A flood of emotion washed through Vallion’s chest at the sight of the pokemon, but the only impulse he chose to obey was the one that told him to bow. Panne, however, simply crossed her arms and glared at the Chesnaught. 

“Panne,” he urged. “He’s still a king, you know. We have to follow the rules like anyone else.” 

“I don’t care if he’s the emperor of the entire planet. I’ll bow when I feel like it’s deserved, and right now the only person I’m looking at is the pokemon that busted my leg and threw me in a cell.” 

Vallion's blood ran cold. Right when it seemed like everything was about to take a turn for the worse, Reinhardt laughed heartily from the bottom of his stomach. Alexander, on the other hand, let another sigh slip over his tongue and began to speak. 

“If the thought ever crossed your mind that these might be imposters, let that incessant drone in your ear prove the contrary. I certainly believe she’s the real thing.” 

The king gestured his claws in a circle, and like a spring-loaded toy the Ribombee snapped back up and continued as they were before. In fact, everyone in the immediate area seemed to exhale and get back to what they were doing. The king had dismissed them all from his presence with nothing more than a simple hand movement. 

“There was never a doubt in my mind,” said Reinhardt, letting his arm fall to his side as if holstering a sword. “I completely understand that you might still feel strongly about our last impressions. They certainly weren’t good ones, not for anybody. If I had the chance to go back and change the past, I-...” His eyes trained on the Delphox’s bandaged leg, watching it hang lifelessly from over the side of her staff. The speech he had probably been planning for years disappeared along with the expression on his face. “...Your leg. Is it truly still..?” 

Panne’s ears shot forward. “Oh? Oh! Hah, I’ve never even realized it was the same leg until now! Sorry, you don’t get to take credit for that one. I fried that leg my own damn self, with no help from anyone but another version of myself. The only thing you’re to thank for is a bald patch on my chest, so I really don’t care much.” 

“Ah. Well, uh…Good, then! Then I suppose I...I should officially welcome you two as honored guests of Paradise!” 

“We can save the welcome for another time,” Alexander swiftly butted in, his vine already sharpened at the tip so that he might dip it into the ink bottle that Illumise meekly presented. “Ribombee, won’t you find a servant that can take Panne and Vallion somewhere while I get a handle on things? The ambassador’s quarters might suffice.” 

The Chesnaught took a step forward, a wide hand over his heart. “Don’t worry yourself with that. I can take them.” 

Alexander peeled his crimson eyes away from the pile of documents. “A king should not be worrying himself with such matters. Servants are there to serve for a reason.” 

“That’s true enough, but how are our guests meant to feel honored if we do not take the time to honor them? Trust can’t be repaired with just the passage of time, Alex. It takes a little effort.” With that, Reinhardt extended an arm towards a branching hall and beckoned the two of them along. “The ambassador’s quarters are this way. They should be to your liking, I hope. Very spacious last I checked.” 

Panne grumbled beneath her breath. “Oh great. I was just waiting to be guided someplace else. If I wander off and find another war crime like last time, I’m going to seriously flip my lid, Val.” 

Not much farther into the building, a wide set of spiral stairs awaited them. Reinhardt pressed forward with a labored gait--slightly slower than Alexander’s, but seemingly much less burdensome and painful. There was a certain regality in the way he sauntered through his own palace. If one were to see them walk side-by-side, it would’ve been easy to pick out which one was king. Not that Alexander didn’t make up for his lack of majesty with an air of severity that could slice throats. 

Vallion couldn’t quite tell how many floors they’d ascended. Three or four by the feel of it, but the staircase just kept going and going. The level Reinhardt decided to stop on appeared much less extravagant than the lower floors. Less marble, more granite. An interesting engraving here and there, maybe a few paintings and busts to smooth the place out, but it certainly wasn’t the very image of royalty that the ground floor strived to be. 

“Ambassador’s quarters, huh?” Vallion started to say just to break the silence. “I can’t imagine you get many of those this far north. Who’s around these parts that would need an ambassador?” 

“Hence the vacancy,” said the Chesnaught with a smile. “I suppose it’s just a formality to call it that. Still, you two certainly fulfill the purpose of the room just fine. They call the Expedition Society a group of scholars who will forge the way for the next generation. I can’t think of anyone more fitting to use such quarters.” 

“See? Somebody gets it!” Panne remarked, her voice echoing in the barren corridor. 

A few turns later, Reinhardt tilted his gaze back at them. "Listen. I know he may seem cold now, but I want you to know how much Alex appreciates this. It must have been impossibly difficult for him to reach out to you for help, given that he hardly asks me for it even in the worst of times. This was something that was eating him away. You have my utmost gratitude, at least." 

Vallion blinked at the Chesnaught. For the ruler of such a large place, and for being an old enemy, the genuine expression on his face made the Serperior study the floor. It was such an aggressively saccharine taste. 

"Sure," was all he really cared to say. 

In the end, Reinhardt had to take them all the way to the other side of the capitol building just to reach the place peacemakers were supposed to stay the night. Whatever reason the architects had to put such a place so far out of the way was well beyond him. Perhaps it was supposed to instill a sense of safety, like you’re nestled deep within the arms of the empire. Or perhaps it was just something to keep friends close and enemies closer. 

A scarlet carpet paved the way past a pair of oak doors. Similarly to the administrative office on the first floor, the room was hideously spacious. The ceiling alone was an arched dome that seemed to stretch fifteen feet high. A crystal chandelier at its core glistened from a fireplace on the other side--one recently lit, if the condition of the kindling was any indication. While the chairs and tables were rather intentionally gaudy and posh, the bed was more like a platform of cushion than anything else, wide enough for nearly any species of pokemon but not more than a foot or two off the ground. 

"Here we are," the king extended his hand and let his followers walk past. "Treat it as your own home while you're here. Help yourself to anything you might need, and do not hesitate to ask anything of us. Has your journey left you hungry?" 

Panne had already zipped over to a bowl of berries before Reinhardt could finish that last sentence. "Oh of course it did! I didn't want to eat anything in front of Alexander. It’s crazy how that guy puts you on-edge just by being around." 

"Anything I should tell the chefs to prepare?" Reinhardt said. "My hospitality typically ends with cooking. I'm...not quite the best at it, but that’s why we employ pokemon who are. The season’s rather tight this year, but we do have some impressive stores in our larder. Something sitrus, perhaps?" 

Vallion rolled his tongue in his mouth. "No, thank you. Maybe something a little spicier for me. And Panne prefers savory." 

The Chesnaught nodded. "As you wish." Then, he disappeared behind the double doors and stomped away down the hall. 

The two of them had some time to themselves, even if it did feel like someone was still breathing down their neck. Panne immediately started to telekinetically overturn furniture and snoop through drawers. She didn’t seem to find much else other than a few books, some extra candles, a box of matches, and folded linen shawls. Vallion wasn’t quite paranoid enough to flip the place over, but he’d be damned to let his guard down in anybody’s royal palace, much less the home of his old enemies. This all felt a little too welcome. 

Not long after Panne finished her search, Alexander reappeared at their door. Still wiping at the end of his vine with a handkerchief, he pressed his way in and regarded his guests with a murmur. Trailing behind him was an unfamiliar pokemon who looked as out of place as Vallion felt. A raggedy Linoone gawked at the palace with such obvious bewilderment that it was clear they had never seen quite this much of the palace before. 

“I take it your quarters are to your liking?” Alexander started off, allowing the Linoone through before securing the door behind them. 

Panne gave a shrug and dismounted from her staff, landing with a grunt into the waiting cushions of a plush chair. “It’s alright. As far as I can tell, anyway.” 

“Alright?!” the Linoone coughed. “What’dya mean ‘alright’?! I’d kill for a gig like this! This room’s bigger than my whole house! I don’t even know what I’d do with all this space!” 

A cleared throat brought their attention back to Alexander. “Yes, well it’s possible that you could earn such a state of living as this, Linoone. Given that you follow my instructions and everything turns out.” 

“And what are these instructions supposed to be?” Vallion spoke up. “You’ve led us all the way into the heart of the city. We had to sneak out of the train and through a labyrinth of alleys just to get to this part of town. I’d certainly like to hear the rest of your explanation before we have to crawl through the vents.” 

“Or do you want us down in the dungeon first before you feel safe about it?” Panne added with a sneer. 

Alexander tried to straighten his back, but immediately fell back into his sideways posture. “I know I’ve been overly cautious with this. I’m not certain if I can afford for this to fail, and I’d rather not find out. The reason I’ve been so careful is because Vallion cannot be seen with me. In fact, my idea works best the less anyone sees of you. You must be a totally clean slate to this city, and if whispers traveled that you arrived with the Master of Law, this would certainly fall through.” 

“ _What_ would fall through, Alexander?” 

“This Weavile,” he continued in his roundabout way, much to Vallion’s annoyance. “There is a dubious group of pokemon that inhabits the southwest corner of town. A gang, essentially--one of the more violent ones, to be sure. Judging from past reports, I was suspicious that their leader might’ve been a Weavile, but now I am almost certain of it. I also know that this individual is the same one that assaulted me two weeks ago. The presumed human. I need you to infiltrate that gang and get close to them.” 

“Psh. Oh?” the Delphox’s ears flopped to the side as she tilted her head. “Lively City doesn’t have to deal with too much organized rabble, but I’m pretty sure you can’t just join a gang because you feel like it. It would be easier to just hunt that bastard down ourselves and deal with the gang that jumps on our backs afterwards.” 

The Linoone stood on its hind legs. “What, am I invisible or something? That’s what I’m around for, toots! You think I’m just another ornament here or somethin’?” 

“...Yes,” Alexander said with a roll of his eyes. “Linoone is an informant of mine from inside the Shardurr gang. He will hopefully be your ticket in. Everything else beyond that point, however, would be up to you.” 

“Before I go ahead and trust a double agent, mind telling me what you’re doing this for, Linoone?” Vallion narrowed his eyes. 

“Eh? What do you mean what am I doing this for? Money, obviously! Being in a gang don’t necessarily put bread on your table. Not a table as big as mine, anyway. Mr. A here slips me a few jingling bags and I let a few secrets slip while I’m talking in my sleep, y’know? Ain’t nothing nobody in this town wants more than to get ahead. I’m luckier than most to even get a chance to be a double-crossing snitch.” 

“And your mission?” Alexander urged on. 

“Put a sock in it, shady! I was getting to that!” The Linoone flattened out the fur of his chest, which bounced back up anyway. “You see, I’m kinda a big deal around these parts. Been in Shardurr for years, I have. When I speak, people listen. Pretty soon I’m gonna be speakin’ about some drifter Serperior who just flew into town. I’m gonna say he’s lookin’ for trouble, and I’m gonna say he’s lookin’ for it through us. People’ll be raisin’ eyebrows instead of turnin’ their heads. You follow, snakey?” 

Vallion slumped back, his coils relaxing. “I suppose I am. Though I’m not exactly the type to...fit into a group like that. You’re sure this will work?” 

“Positive! It better, anyways, or I won’t be fallin’ to sleep to the jinglin’ white noise of coin no more!” Linoone shouted. 

“Well, Vallion. Do you have an alternative you’d like to share?” Alexander narrowed his eyes. “This specific route serves many purposes to me. For instance, the possible dismantling of a troublesome group. Parsing whether this pokemon truly is a human or not. Figuring out whether they can be reasoned with should such claims be true. Finding the reason they have been brought to this world at all. I summoned you for this task because you are no ordinary pokemon. Unless, you aren’t up to it?" 

The Serperior huffed in response. "I get it, I get it. Whatever. I'll join that gang if it's supposed to be part of the mission. Just don't expect that I can give you perfect results. I'm a scholar first, and a fighter second. Organized crime and espionage aren’t exactly in my list of skills." 

"What about me?" Panne tapped her staff against the polished hardwood. "I didn’t come all the way here to watch him join up with a bunch of thugs! I gotta be involved or you’re not getting anything." 

"...Hm. Actually…" Alexander began. "Though I originally hadn't expected you to tag along--as naive as that might seem considering--it is rather fortuitous that you did. You would not be doing the same tasks as Vallion, mind you, but the ones I was going to occupy myself with. I will no longer have to fall behind in my duties thanks to you." 

"I haven't agreed to it yet, dumbass. I came to make sure Val didn't do anything stupid alone, and to make sure you and your people didn't fuck us a second time. I don't have a problem with him going undercover or anything. He can handle himself without me just fine. It's you splitting us up I'm leery of." 

The crooked Serperior suppressed another groan. It was startling how much more tired he looked compared to earlier. "Then be leery if that's your wish. Your mission is to look into the possibility of a coming disaster. If a human’s presence is needed, then surely there would be warning signs. I need you to find them, if any." 

Panne folded her arms with a huff. She stared off for a moment, her ears twitching with thought. "So is that really all you want? Because that job's so easy that it's unfair to Val, you know. Dark Matter was affecting seismic and geological readings for years before it actually happened, though there were fewer pokemon worrying about it then. I mean, you _do_ keep record of those statistics here, right?" 

"We should, yes. They ought to be located in the grand archive, which is an establishment not far from this building." 

The Delphox crossed her one good leg over the other, her ankle twirling in a circle in a playful circle. "Hey dear. Are you absolutely sure about this? Like, one hundred-percent sure this isn't going to be like last time?" 

"Say yes," Linoone chirped. "This all better not fall through, yeah? This paycheck's more than I can make in a year." 

Ignoring the weasel altogether, Vallion just gave her a soft nod and a smile. "I'll be fine as long as you promise to be safe, too. I'd rather take my chances with ruffians than politicians, anyhow. Brute force negotiations don’t end with me behind bars." 

"Then fine." Panne turned back to the Master of Law. "You'll get your research, I suppose. If anything's going wrong with this region of the world, you sure as hell hired the right pokemon to figure it out." 

For once, Alexander sighed in relief rather than exasperation. "Good. Excellent. This is incredible news. The finer details we'll likely have to work out tomorrow, but no matter. I'm more than pleased to hear that everything will finally be underway." 

"Can I head out now, bendy? You ain't the only one around here with places to be." Linoone scratched at his ear while his gaze listlessly wandered around the suite. 

Alexander turned and pressed open the doors with an idle vine, not totally looking away from the couple. "I suppose that's it for now. Did Reinhardt happen to-" 

"Ask us about dinner?" Panne finished for him. "Yeah, if that was what you were about to say. He was on his way to the kitchen, last I heard." 

With a silent tilt of his head, Alexander beckoned to his informant and slithered out into the open corridor. The weighty doors slammed to a close once more, and the scratching sound of the Linoone's claws was all they could hear fade into the distance. 

A minute or so passed, but the pregnant pause did not. It was almost as if they couldn't help but expect something to go wrong then and there. Apart from the crackling of the fireplace, however, they were alone. 

"...He's gone, right?" Panne started to mutter. Her ears twisted to and fro as she leaned towards the door. "Sneaky bastard. How does he not even make a sound when he moves? Like, do you remember the stories we used to hear about as kids? There isn’t a single advisor to a king that looks like that and isn’t totally evil. We didn't just make a horrible mistake, did we?" 

"You're the one who said we could take him on if we had to," Vallion said, slowly letting himself relax as his neck joined the rest of his coils. 

"Well yeah, but you can't fight back against traps! That's the whole point of them! What are you even supposed to do in a gang, anyway? Isn't the point that they always skirt right above the law? I will go rogue and break you the hell out of jail if he frames you for some shit." 

He flicked his tongue and tasted the richness of the kindling in the fire. "I think that in times like these, it’s easier to just keep going forward than trying to pull out. Like the head of an arrow, you know? I dunno, I guess we'll just have to see what happens next." 

“Well whatever happens, don’t let anyone get the better of you, okay? Not even for a second. I constantly feel like something bad’s about to go down. When it finally does, we’re gonna be on top of it.” The Delphox let her head dangle over the chair’s arm. “Now will you get over here, already? I’m getting cold and these cushions are way too soft. I need firm muscles to lay against or I’ll never relax.”


	5. The Warmest of Welcomes

"Yeah so anyways," Linoone continued, briefly stopping to shake the snow from his coarse fur. "You're gonna find the place around a corner down in the gutter, yeah? It's before the pub but not after. Don't go after, unless you're into that sorta thing. And it's the pub on Second Street, the one with the broken sign. Not the one a quarter mile out with the trees. I mean, you'd know it if you saw it, but what I'm sayin' is that you shouldn't be seein' it. You follow me?" 

Vallion snorted at the mucus in his nose and grunted, wishing in vain that he could spontaneously adapt to the cold. "Yeah, I hear you." 

West District didn't seem like a particularly nice place to live regardless of the time of year. Beige masonry and red brickwork all faded into different hues of grey in the Serperior's eyes, overwhelmed by the white and the grey and the black that smothered everything. This whole section of the city had been built upon the turbulent foothills of a nearby mountain. As a result, much of the stone that had been laid years ago started to crack from the gradual movement of the earth, affecting everything from sidewalks to buildings. Sometimes he would see a vain attempt at filling in the gaps with grout, but such glimmers of hope were few and far between. 

The people didn't seem too pleased to be here, either. Most of the faces that he and Linoone passed kept their heads low and their eyes lower. Those that did look up often had predatory eyes, glaring at passersby in their vigilant search for trouble. One thing Vallion did notice was that Linoone’s presence made most of those pokemon avert their gazes. The fool must not have been lying about his position after all. 

“You know what?” Linoone suddenly started again, as if the mere thought of the pokemon was enough to gain his attention. “I’ve been wonderin’ ‘bout all this. I don’t actually know how they’re gonna, y’know, induct you in or whatever. Outsiders almost never join with Shardurr. They typically go to the guys across town if at all. Actually, we’re usually the ones that crack down on outsiders in the first place, so…” 

“I’m sure it’ll be manageable,” Vallion brushed him off. 

“All I’m sayin’ is that- Ah dammit this better work out! You better do whatever they want you to, bright-eyes! If they tell ya to jump off a bridge, I better see your splat mark on the ground by tomorrow morning!” 

“You might see somebody’s splat mark. Couldn’t say for sure if it would be mine, but again, that depends on how they want to conduct their business.” 

Linoone hissed. “Don’t fuck this up for me, pal! I got a lot ridin’ on this and I ain’t got any second chances! Anyways, I’ve led ya far enough that anyone with half a brain cell could find the rest of the way. Go figure it out why don’t ya? I got places to be.” 

With that, Alexander’s loyal informant scuttled off down some side road and left Vallion to his own devices. It would probably do his nerves good to go on without the constant chatter that spilled from that guy’s mouth. If the cold wasn’t enough to make his spine try to lock up, the gravity of what he was about to try and do certainly was. Sighing and shivering in the same breath, the Serperior went on his way through the downtrodden streets. 

It was on a particularly steep stretch of hill that he neared his destination. Every piece of real estate along Second Street was built to remain level along the ever-descending slope. It was so unforgivably vertical that Vallion felt himself start to slip on the ice at times. His saving grace from the cold was some run-down old business with a sign hanging loosely out front. It advertised the faded image of what looked like a tankard over some illegible text. The alley before and not after, right? 

Could one even call a stairway into the abyss an alley, though? There was almost no light that could infiltrate the space between the two buildings, even in the bright of day. The path was unsurprisingly paved with graffiti and vandalism. The most prevalent of symbols Vallion saw as he pressed onward was a specific letter carved out of the stone. Two offset diagonal lines parallel to one another, and a perpendicular diagonal slash to connect the two of them. Shardurr didn’t seem very original when it came to branding, it seemed. In any case, every instance of the symbol was specifically carved out of the wall, never written. 

There was a backdoor into the pub all the way at the end of that murky corridor. It was small enough that Vallion probably wouldn't have been able to fit if he had any other body shape. Another wave of graffiti warned him that this was no place for strangers. Even so, there was no lock to stop him from turning the handle. He would've taken a deeper preparatory breath, but the air back here was stale and filthy. 

His eyes had already adjusted to the dark, so it wasn’t such a shock when he made the transition to strained candlelight. Inside was what appeared to be another bar entirely hidden beneath the one upstairs, but this one felt half-finished. All the wooden fixtures were cobbled together with raw, unflattering planks and dowels. The barren cobblestone walls lacked any sort of secondary construction or insulation. Even the dusty rafters and supports were exposed. 

Ramshackle as it may have been, it was far from empty. At least a dozen heads turned to face the Serperior as he entered. An uneasy silence gripped the room almost immediately. In spite of this, the Serperior shut the door behind him. Then, without meeting anyone's direct eye contact, he started towards the end of the bar. There were even heat signatures up in the ceiling, it seemed. 

His cold, wet scales scraping against the splinters of the floor were practically the only thing he could hear. Vallion felt the pressure start to squeeze at his throat. He settled in front of the countertop and around the support of a cheap stool, too many eyes burning at the back of his head all the while. This was part of the plan, he reassured himself. To act like he belonged, he had to force himself in. 

As that terrible moment dragged on, the Serperior glanced around where there weren't adversaries to meet his glare. The bar was actually rather well-stocked, and while it certainly had its fair share of watered-down swill, he spotted some rather interesting names to see on bottles this far north. Things that shouldn't be sold in a bar. Things so strong and so toxic that they could give a poison type a buzz, and kill any other pokemon who ingested a mere drop. 

There was a stomping that shook the very foundation of the building. One step after another, the massive presence advanced from the opposite end of the bar. Vallion resisted the urge to flinch as the pokemon slammed down right beside him. The silence fell again, but he could feel the creature's breath on the side of his face. After a few seconds, he finally turned. 

A Druddigon, one that had no right being as large as they were, stared him down. There was an old bandage around their shoulder and a nasty scar on their cheek. A low growl started in the base of their throat, which grew until just the vibration alone could be felt in the floorboards. 

"You," they finally said, spitting the word out at the tail end of their growl. "You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, outsider." 

"Really? I don't think so," Vallion slowly spoke, as if anything said too rapidly might set off a bomb in his face. "I was told that this was where I should go if I wanted to join up with Shardurr. Was I lied to?" 

"It's disgusting how you think you can use that word so casually." The dragon raised their lip to reveal a row of fangs. "You don't have any idea who we are. You don't have any idea what you're doing here. As far as I'm concerned, you're lunch, and you just walked through the door and sat on my plate." 

Vallion's expression soured at the smell of the Druddigon's rancid breath. "If I'm so clueless, then would you mind filling me in? Is it such a strange thing that someone might want to join your group?" 

A wave of snickers washed over the room behind him. 

“He wants to know!” one of the voices sneered. 

“Tell ‘em, Brute! Fill ‘em in!” another chimed in. 

The Druddigon stepped forward to erase the few inches Vallion earned from sliding away. “You wanna know why you’re such a dumbass? I hate your guts, but since you’re so pathetic, I’ll tell ya. We run the streets of Paradise here. These are our houses. These are our shops. You’re sitting at our counter. This is our place, see? And who the fuck are you supposed to be? You ain’t from around here, and yet you're stupid enough to think that you can run with us?” 

“Was I wrong in that assumption?” 

Another round of laughter came from the shadowy audience. The massive dragon turned their head just a couple degrees towards them, and every chuckle was cut short almost instantly. With order restored, they redirected their teeth back towards their original prey. 

“We’ve had outsiders join before,” they growled. “They had to go through hell and back. Most don’t make it out the other side in one piece. This isn’t some two-bit group of smugglers and delinquents. We’re the next generation of this city. Nobody gets in without a price, and that means double for your kind.” 

The Serperior narrowed his eyes. “Did I stutter at any point? Stop gloating and name that price already. I assume you have better things to do than lord over me.” 

Jeers filled the air. Claws and hooves slammed against the cheap tables and floorboards. It felt as though the room would crash down on him at any minute, the presence of their boss the only thing keeping a lynching from breaking out. 

“Tell ‘im! Tell ‘im already!” 

“Hurry it up already! Let’s get this show on the road!” 

The Druddigon cracked a smile, revealing a back row of razor teeth. “Fee of entry’s damn steep. Outsiders have to prove that they truly wanna be Shardurr more than anything. Think of it like a...a rebirth, from wherever the fuck you came from. It’s been a long time since one’a you showed up, and my boys’ve been itchin’ to _initiate_ someone for a while. They each get to take a piece outta you, see? We slam some humility into your skull, and then maybe we’ll see whether you’re Shardurr material once we scrape you off the floor afterwards.” 

Vallion blinked. "So what you're saying is--in order to get in--I have to let myself get beaten half to death by everyone here? Is that what you mean?” 

“Well aren’t you smart?” cried an Incineroar from the crowd. A rousing roar agreed with the thug as they stood from their seat. “And you know what th’ best part is? If you so much as throw a single punch back, we ain’t gonna pull ours anymore! Happened to the last one, y’know. Guy that finished him off had’ta clean the blood outta the walls for days.” 

“Or,” the Druddigon began, silencing the rest of the rabble with a single syllable. “If you’re scared shitless, you can leave. You get the fuck out of the town, and you don’t let any of us see your filthy mug ever again. We ain’t monsters. You got one chance to change your mind and fuck off before we plaster you. One.” 

Displeased shouts and vicious insults exploded from the ruffians. Clearly they weren’t too fond of this rule. Pokemon like these were the same kind that would gladly join guilds to hunt down outlaws for sport. Violent, but trapped in a place where violence was disallowed. They had to take it out on someone. Dammit, he was gonna have to do this the hard way after all. Vallion furrowed his brow. “...Fine. I had no intention of backing down, anyway.” 

Drunken cheers filled the air. Vallion turned his attention away from the dragon to glare at the crowd. 

“However!” he continued once the volume of their excitement began to wane. “I never said I intended on becoming a punching bag. I’m joining this gang either way, but nobody’s gonna lay a finger on me and get away with it. You would’ve been better off sending me away with some illegal task to complete.” 

“That ain’t how it works, meat!” Druddigon bellowed above the uproar. Then, for whatever reason, they took a few large steps back and leaned against the opposite end of the counter. “But you know what? Go ahead. See how that ends up.” 

The Incineroar was the first one to step forward. There was a swagger in their step that pissed Vallion off, which made him glad that they were the first one who volunteered to be a demonstration. 

“You fuckin’ idiot. You got that much of a deathwish?” the fire type said with a sneer. More pokemon started to rise from their seats, or push off of the wall, or fly down from the rafters. They all egged the Incineroar on with their shouts. “Maybe you ain’t so smart after all. If you know what’s good for you, when I throw this punch, you ain’t gonna do shit. Ain’t that right?” 

Vallion twisted his body towards the approaching thug. He was almost relieved that the situation was finally going to boil over. Perhaps he might have already failed Alexander’s mission, but at least he didn’t have to pretend to get along with these fools. 

“Here,” the Incineroar said. “Lemme wipe that stupid fucking look off your face.” 

They reared back. Vallion didn’t budge an inch. Their fist came barreling in without any grace or nuance, which made it exceedingly easy for the Serperior’s vine to shoot forward, wrap around his foe’s wrist, and misdirect the attack straight past his head. The Incineroar had this expression of insulted disbelief like they hadn't actually believed him until now. That expression spread to the entire bar as he wrenched the Incineroar’s arm and tossed them aside like the trash they were. 

What started as a stunned silence exploded into a tempest of motion and noise. Wood scraping on wood was overwhelmed by a chorus of tribal yells, then a dozen charging footsteps. The first to reach Vallion were those in the skeleton of the ceiling, diving down together in a surge of malice. He sidestepped a swooping Ninjask and wrapped his vines around a Corvisquire in the same motion. Before the bird even had time to thrash about, he swung around and threw it at the closest target in the crowd. 

The flood of thugs came crashing in. The Serperior rolled his body away from their snapping jaws and swings, picking up the stool he’d been coiled around and cracking it across a Hawchula’s head. Flying splinters didn’t dissuade the tide of bodies that rushed at him. He curved himself to narrowly avoid the blades of a Bisharp, did the same with his tail to miss the wild swing of a Rillaboom, and slid up onto the countertop with his midsection. The Ninjask came around for another pass, but was struck out of the air with a precise whip of a vine. 

From that higher ground, it was even more difficult for the mass to strike at Vallion without hitting one another. The Bisharp’s arm embedded itself into the cheap wood in a failed attempt at disembowelment, leaving it wide open to a slam from the Serperior's lower body. The blow knocked it free of the counter and cut a hole in the crowd where people had wisely dodged out of the way. A Yanma filled the gap and swung by to bite a chunk out of him, unwittingly crashing into the back of the Rillaboom before the grass type could chase him down. 

Globs of acid arced over the sea of heads and splashed into the display of bottles. At the same moment, a Rhydon crashed straight through the countertop and attempted to launch Vallion into the wall. He reflexively lunged from from what little footing he had left and clamped his teeth down in the creature's shoulder. Though his teeth barely managed to penetrate their thick hide, it was enough of a grip to maneuver his whole body around them by just the strength of his jaws and neck. An entire Serperior shifting its weight around by a single point was enough to throw even the heaviest of pokemon off-balance, and this Rhydon was no exception. 

The thug stumbled backwards to regain their footing, their swinging tail taking out two tables and three more of his attackers. Before they could retaliate properly, Vallion pulled at their ankle with a vine and shifted their weight even further backwards, twisting the Rhydon's joints and bringing them down for good. Another volley of acid smashed into the surrounding area and splashed him quite badly in the lower body. Not that he felt much pain at the moment. It was more about the displeasure of letting something like that hit him at all. 

More enemies piled in. A Marshtomp that had narrowly dodged the Rhydon's fall, a Shiftry, and a Houndoom surrounded him. Vallion first had to evade a fan of the Shiftry's razor-sharp leaves. The angle in which he had to evade put his back towards the Houndoom, who gladly crunched down on his scales with a mouthful of fire. A cry of pain caught in Vallion's throat as he wrapped his vines around his attacker and smashed both himself and the creature's jaw into what was left of the bar. A sickening crack loosened the pokemon's grip. 

Now free, he lifted the wounded Houndoom and used them as a cushion to absorb the Marshtomp's coming headbutt. He coiled his body back and threw the both of them in one motion, tripping the Rillaboom once more, who bounced their forehead off the corner of a fallen stool. 

The Incineroar had gotten back up. Clutching at their dislocated shoulder, they swathed themself in an aura of flames and charged at the Serperior in a fit of blind rage. Vallion merely had to put himself low to the floor and slam into their knees to send them tumbling onward into the growing pile of fools. 

The Shiftry thought they had a perfect opportunity to finish him off and went in to slash at his jugular. They had forgotten how flexible he was, and was quickly caught by the same grapple that took down the Rhydon. Vallion felt something break in them as he rode their body down into the ground. 

It seemed like the rest of the battle went by in a blur. He barely recognized the pokemon he was fighting before he took them down. These pokemon were vicious, but they didn't know how to fight like he did. Unprotected limbs were wrested out from beneath them and easily pulled into submission. Their stances and attacks almost never supported their own weight, so each redirection sent them flying into objects and the floor. Friendly fire was all too common, and when the Gloom in the back hit one too many of their own kind, some of the gang became distracted with stopping them instead. It was chaotic violence in its purest form, and in this martial trance, Vallion had complete control. 

The Serperior didn’t make it out unscathed, but he was one of the few left standing when all was said and done. He heaved for breath, his vines curled in defensive postures in front of him, ready for the next surprise to burst out of his peripheral vision. However, the remnants of his foes were all left writhing on the floor. Those who hadn’t been knocked clean out nursed their broken bones or crawled through the splinters. 

Abuzz with adrenaline, Vallion finally turned to the Druddigon and shivered with anticipation. The dragon stared him in the eyes and began to build up a roar so loud that there was no way the pokemon on the street couldn't hear it. It paired well with the howl of the blood in his ears. 

"Hold it!" 

A feminine voice cut the Druddigon short. A nimble form slinked out of the shadows of the rafters, kicked off of the support pillar, and landed gracefully amidst the mess. A Weavile. Vallion turned to meet his new opponent before his mind could catch up, but they stepped over the debris and walked straight past him instead. Left hanging in stance, it slowly dawned on him who this pokemon was. 

"What?!" the Druddigon snarled, their wings and claws twitching with anger. "Why?! Why stop me again?! Look at what he's done to us! I'm gonna rip his throat out and tear the spine from his back!" 

The Weavile ignored them entirely. After calmly regarding the carnage for a moment, she pivoted around and sauntered towards a larger doorway at the far side of the bar. She beckoned to the both of them with a curl of her talons before disappearing into the darkness just beyond. 

It was around that point when Vallion finally started to notice his wounds. Burns stung, gashes throbbed, and the countless contusions he’d suffered swelled with blood. He grit his teeth and hurried through the door before the Druddigon. Judging from the wanton destruction the dragon started to unleash upon what was left of the furniture in response to their master’s orders, it was probably a better idea in the long run to follow a dark type into a poorly-lit hallway than stick around. 

The passage led up some stairs and opened up into another dim room. This one seemed more fitting for the location, looking just like any other backroom you might find in a business like this. Flashing Vallion a crooked smile, the Weavile hopped up on some barrels and took a coy seat among the freight. 

“Who are you?” the Serperior asked, knowing full well who this was. 

“Give it a minute,” she said. Once the rest of the crashing downstairs ended, she gestured away from the door and clicked her tongue. 

Right on cue, the Druddigon’s claws crushed the corner of the doorway. They stuck their head into the light, enough daggers in their stare to arm a small militia. The bandage around their shoulder had turned scarlet as their wound reopened. “Why, Chenza?! This one deserves to die a terrible death for crossing us! You know he does! Let me-” 

“Do shut up, Brute. Really, you’re giving me a headache,” she spoke without even an ounce of fear or intimidation. It was strange, seeing such a small pokemon lord over as overwhelming a beast as this. 

“Tell me why! Such a humiliating...I ought to skin you alive, snake! You should’ve left when you had the chance!” 

A grating sound pierced the air as three claws dragged up the side of the brick wall. The Weavile punctuated her point with an impatient rapping at the end. “Be quiet already! You know damn well why we’re back here! Unless you’ve already forgotten your own entrance into this little group, that is. I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

“What’s all this, then? On with it already!” Vallion nearly shouted. 

“Hm? Still wound up, are we?” Chenza sat up from her recline. “Why not take a load off? Relax. You’re already in our ranks as far as I’m concerned. And for your information, what I’m concerned with happens to be very important to what Shardurr is concerned with.” 

“You can’t-!” 

The Weavile cut the dragon off with a loud hush. “You really don’t remember, Brute? How very disingenuous of you. How could you forget the time when you first traveled here from Sand Continent? We tried this exact trick on you, as well. Only you know what? This guy didn’t kill half the pokemon in the room in the process. In fact, I don’t even think he killed any of them, and I certainly saw some points where he could’ve wrung a neck or two. Subtlety is an important skill to have in this business. You don’t have it, buddy.” 

Brute deflated with another growl earth-shaking growl. The fire in his eyes had faded, but it still felt much safer to stand as far away from him as physically possible. 

A shuddering cough left Vallion’s frame. He hadn’t quite caught his breath yet, and the adrenaline that still lingered in his blood felt absolutely terrible. Now he remembered why he hated fighting like that. “So, what? Have I passed the secret entrance exam or something like that?” 

“Ha! It’d hardly call it something so official. Regardless, I have a discerning eye when it comes to pokemon that can defeat an entire bar of drunken bastards. Not that that’s a particularly common measure of ability.” The Weavile hopped down from her perch on all fours. She began to size up the Serperior in earnest, gauging the extent of his injuries. 

“People call me a lot of things. Most call me boss. My mother called me Chenza. I suspect you didn’t slog through that to walk away empty handed. Did you, Serperior?” 

He exhaled. “I came here with a goal and I accomplished it already. That’s all there is to it.” 

She raised a palm towards him. “Now wait there just a minute. That most certainly isn’t all there is to it. Sure, you beat down a handful of my guys to force your way through, but that doesn’t explain why you did it. An outsider wouldn’t go and do all that without a damn good reason to. Now that we’re past the hard part, you’re gonna tell me that reason.” 

The Serperior winced a bit on the inside. This was fine, though. He had a feeling that such a question might come up at some point. This conversation was one of the few he came to expect out of this excursion. It was all a part of the character he had to become. 

“Alexander,” he answered with as steady a voice as he could muster. “The Serperior that rules this territory. I’m after him, or more specifically, everything that he owns. I’ve heard that many have tried and failed to take this territory from him. That should make it all the more glorious when I finally manage to overthrow him.” 

“Ah! So you’re one of those, I see! Makes sense. You don’t see any of your species around these parts for the exact same reason.” Chenza continued to circle around him, her footsteps somehow almost completely silent. “But that’s also kinda weird, don’t you think? All the other Serperior who tried the same thing went about it in the same way. They’d march up to the capitol, demand a duel or whatever they’d do, and usually get their heads chopped clean off. What the fuck’s with you, then? A Serperior coming for help against another Serperior?” 

Vallion cleared his throat. “History is written by the winner, as they say. The fools who attack a hopeless problem head-on get cut down like they deserve. I cannot take him on myself, I admit, but I don’t necessarily have to take him on with an even playing field. Who’s to say what I did or didn’t do to win when I’m on top?” 

Chenza snickered. When she had circled just outside of his field of vision, the Weavile jumped up and slipped right past his neck. She landed directly in front of him, having somehow dismantled the knot in his Harmony Scarf in that fraction of a second. With the most mild of curiosity, she held his precious thing up to the light and halfheartedly examined it. Vallion struggled not to rush forward and swipe the scarf out of her grimy claws then and there. Before his vines could make that decision for him, she shrugged and carelessly tossed it over her shoulder. He rushed to catch it and hastily reattached it to himself. 

“Sounds like a pretty good plan you got there,” she finally said. “Put yourself below someone else for just long enough to use them as a bridge to the top. Not many of your kind would have the ambition to do that. Those prudish cunts would rather get decapitated than have to bow their head for one measly moment.” 

“Naturally,” the irritation in Vallion’s voice had no hope of being smothered at this point. “I didn’t come here to be a meager pawn. I’ve come to earn what is rightfully mine, by any means necessary.” 

A haughty laugh left the Weavile’s maw. “That’s funny! I happen to sympathize with that exact sentiment, in fact! That’s a fairly common state of mind around here. Perhaps you’d fit right in after all. Though that line of thinking has led to some...unfortunate consequences, I’ve found.” 

“What are you-?” 

“Hey. Serperior. We’ve just met, but I think you’ll come to find that I’m not fucking stupid. You’re not telling the full truth. Not that I expected you to, of course, but slimy fucks like you are the exact kind of pokemon you can’t trust with your back. I’ve learned how to pick apart what’s real and what’s bullshit over the course of my life. How about you tell me why you’re really here and I’ll help you get what you want. As long as you help me get what I want in turn, obviously.” 

In that moment, Vallion wondered if she had picked up on the way his heartbeat skipped. There wasn’t a second answer to this question. He had thought that what he came up with would have sated anyone’s curiosity. What was he supposed to answer with? What could she possibly mistake with the truth? 

“Well? You gonna take all day with this?” 

I-...” the Serperior cut himself off, filled his lungs with a different gulp of air, and tried again. “Alexander is...This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered them. Our paths crossed for the first time on the Water Continent a very long time ago. It was then that he did something I would never be able to forgive him for. The fame and fortune are pleasant rewards, yes, but they aren’t the reason I’ve come to this god-forsaken wasteland of a kingdom. I want revenge.” 

Chenza’s eyes brightened as she rolled her wrist forward, urging him even further. He bared his fangs in protest, but relented all the same. “He hurt someone I love dearly. He betrayed our trust, disrupted the peace of the land, and nearly killed her as a result of his actions. Had things been different that day--had a single minute more passed before help came--she would have bled out beneath me and died.” 

“Ha! That explains the scarf!” Chenza’s shoulders finally relaxed. He didn’t even know they were tense to begin with. Her toothy grin didn’t feel friendly at all as gave him a slap on the side. “You know what, Serperior? I think we’re gonna have a very fruitful relationship in the coming months. What do you say, Brute? Think Freak’ll like him?” 

“Boss’ wishes are the only thing in the way of me killing you. If you step out of line a single inch, I will snap you like a fucking twig,” the dragon answered. 

“See? You’re already part of the family! And like the pillar of any family, you better be a damn good breadwinner.”


	6. Grand Archives

Another frigid breeze barreled down the street and whipped at Panne's long fur. She shuddered, swore beneath her breath, and turned her back to the wind. Her hand went up to protect the tiny flame that burned at the end of a curl of willow bark. The Delphox leaned against the railing of the stairway, taking another long drag through the smoldering wood and holding it in her lungs. It was a little less efficient to smoke the stuff rather than just chew it, but god did she need that warmth more than anything. The headache could wait. 

It wasn't long before the kindling was reduced to ashes. Disappointed, Panne flicked the spent bark into a pile of plowed snow at the edge of the plaza. She glanced up the steps towards the extravagant building that they led to. ‘The Grand Archive’, it apparently was. Judging from the intricate detailing on the outside of the walls, someone with some actual creativity must've designed it, unlike the aggressively geometric capitol building. As the last sigh of smoke left her snout, she straddled her staff and shot forward with a jolt, her bag bouncing against her back. 

The entrance was made of glass rather than that dreary wood-and-stone aesthetic everything seemed to have around here. The Delphox dismounted and pressed through the door into a lovely atmosphere of warmth and dusty smells. More of that labyrinthine detailing could be seen in the supports beyond the front desk. Floral spirals and ivy fractals-designs that lead the eye through a million details like they were lines on a page. Finally, some actual fucking culture. 

Panne limped her way deeper into the archives. Well, they called it that, but really it was just an overblown library at the end of the day. Hardwood flooring coincided with carpeted aisles where the shelves must’ve reached twice her height. A scholar or two would flit by in a hurry, seemingly to steal a table and quill for themselves. Like the palace earlier, the building was arranged in a circular fashion around a central area blessed by a source of heat. This time, an iron furnace and not an open flame. Not quite as flashy, but all the flair that was carefully crafted into the architecture made up for it. 

The librarians dashed about with limbs full of files and carts loaded with books. A Claydol sat between a series of desks, levitating unsorted binders and scrolls from a pile, briefly scanning multiples at a time with their row of eyes, then placed them in their respective bins. Not far from there, she saw a huge desk with a magnifying glass mechanism extending off its side, for use of larger pokemon who needed to read especially tiny literature. They had one of those back at home, too. They were expensive as all hell. 

Panne saw a busy Nidorino shuffle past with three legs to the ground and one full of documents. She attempted to catch their attention. 

“That where they shove all the garbage fiction?” She jabbed an elbow towards the furnace. 

They suppressed a tiny smile. “Anything I can help you with today, ma’am?” 

“Yeah. Where could I find records of geological surveys from around here? Preferably the most current ones, but I probably need them all anyway.” 

“Umm. Probably on the other side, at the far back.” They pointed their nose across the archive. Upon glancing back, their eyes twitched down to her lame leg. “Oh! Did you need any extra help today, ma’am? I could fetch whatever you need for you.” 

The Delphox threw back her ears. She tossed herself onto her staff and let herself recline on the thin beam as it lifted her into the air. “Eh? Do I look crippled to you? I’ve climbed entire mountains like this, you know. It was even easier to do that after I lost it, actually.” 

Naturally, the Nidorino quickly excused themselves and ran off to whatever they were doing. Panne shot a smirk at their leaving and went on her way. Dismounted, of course, since that headache really was starting to come on. A little hobbling never hurt anyone. 

Now that she was actively going through it, this place seemed even more organized than their own library back home. Official files and reports were separated into several rows of cabinets, sorted by year, sectioned down to the very week. That being said, finding the more scientific topics in the sea of old news and political shit was an arduous task. This was an _archive_ , after all, so it made sense that they kept all this garbage around. It even had a wall of scrolls at the beginning from when paper was more difficult to produce. Only after a couple minutes of searching did she come across the section where studies were kept--a quarter of the library away. 

Now what was the end of the world supposed to look like? Seismic patterns? Radical weather? Shortening seasons? Ah hell, she probably needed them all. The fact that there wasn’t actually a value attached to Alexander’s big reward probably meant she could get away with much more than this was worth. Might as well go all-out with what’s here. 

Though there wasn’t much to choose from, anyway. The Delphox gathered up what data she could and stowed it beneath her arm. Clearly there weren’t too many pokemon interested in keeping these kinds of records. Newly fearful that she might have to go out and do field tests herself, Panne made her way over to a choice table just across from the furnace, slapping down both the documents and her bag. 

“Panne. There you are,” a familiarly gruff voice spoke out. Oh, this had to happen RIGHT when she was about to sit down, huh? Suppressing a groan, she pulled herself back out of her seat and faced Reinhardt. “Alexander told me you had recently left. I was hoping to catch you before you got too deep in your work. 

Rather than being fresh from the bath like last night, the king of Paradise was all decked out in his formal attire. A large satin sash hung from the two spines of his shell and trailed like a cape, embroidered with the blue and green of his kingdom. Similarly, flowing bands of the same material and style hung from his wrists like the sleeves of a Mienshao. A silver diadem of sapphires and emeralds was fit snugly onto the top of his head. There was also a contrastingly plain looking scarf around his neck--probably from his queen, she imagined. 

Though it was like trying to spot a flying type next to the sun, there was also a Grumpig trailing shortly behind him. 

Panne levitated her staff up to her chest and leaned her chin and arms onto it. “Oh boy. Is this me getting in trouble for not kissing the ground you walked on yesterday?” 

“Nothing like that!” Reinhardt said with a shake of his head. “I had some business in the archives today and decided I’d drop by before you got too engrossed. That and, well, I thought of someone that might be interested to hear you’re in town.” 

The Chesnaught stepped aside, allowing full view of the Grumpig. They wore an expensive-looking shawl and a pair of round spectacles. Sheepishly walking forward, they gawked at the Delphox for a brief moment, then went in for an awkwardly one-sided handshake. 

“The rumor was true, then! You’re Panne of the Expedition Society! Oh, I’ve read much of your work on the geography of the other continents! I’ve always found your research on the expansion of mystery dungeon forests so interesting! Had I a more lenient position here in the city, I’d have gone to study at Nexus years ago!” 

She couldn’t help but smile. “A fan of ours, ay? And here I thought my reputation might go unnoticed in this town.” 

“Oh certainly not! I happen to be the Master of Books for the kingdom. This place is my headquarters, in a sense, so I try to keep it as tidy as possible. When there’s not mountains of work to do, anyway. Please, feel free to use it at your leisure for any information you might need!” 

Panne tilted her head. “Another master? What’s with this master thing, anyway? That what you call your chancellors around here?” 

“It’s...somewhat similar to the council of Lively City, yes!” Grumpig’s eyes beamed at the mere opportunity to explain something to her. “Paradise is a kingdom, of course, but beneath King Reinhardt there are four pokemon who act as extensions of his power so that he might focus himself in a more reasonable manner. There is a Master of Law, of War, of Trade, and of Books, and they handle their responsibilities with nearly as much power as the ruler of the kingdom himself. Though I’d say that being Master of Books might be an auxiliary power at best, perhaps. Important on a grand scale, sure! But maybe not so...pressingly important in our current climate.” 

“Come now, Master Grumpig. Your work is the one that most secures our future!” Reinhardt bowed his head, the gemstones in his crown sparkling rather obnoxiously. “The history of this city is preserved in your hands, after all. And that’s not to forget the schools you've built for the scholars of tomorrow. Invisible as your hand may be, it is possibly the most vital one guiding our growing society towards prosperity.” 

The Grumpig’s cheeks went rosy. “Ah, well- That’s not to say- You don’t have to-” 

Panne huffed. “This is nice and all but I’ve got your snakey friend’s mission to get back to. He was very urgent about how I shouldn’t waste any time.” She let her staff gently place her back into the chair and released her mental grip to let it clatter to the carpet. 

With a nod, the Chesnaught turned away, and with him flowed the streams of delicate fabric that adorned him. “Right so. I’ll let you get back to that.” 

“Y-you can use any resource I have available! I’ll help in any way I can!” Master Grumpig stuttered out, adjusting his glasses over and over again. “All you need to do is ask, professor! It’s truly an honor that you would use my archive for your work!” 

Once there were finally no more distractions, Panne settled in and started to sift through the records, starting with regular weather reports and working her way down from there. Naturally, there was a lot of redundancy to push out of the way so that she could get to the real numbers. It wasn’t the most thorough investigation on her end, mostly because she was just hunting down the notes that mattered and collecting them in a separate book. Such was the life of an explorer with nowhere to explore. 

Minutes came and went. Folders flipped from one side of the table to the other. Neat rows of data filled a page in the journal, then went on to consume another. Her immediate impressions was that the crust wasn’t cracking beneath their feet as she sat. Her long-term ones were that there were too many pokemon living in one space, and that it was probably unsustainable with the way things were currently progressing. A lot of seemingly ethereal aspects of nature were being affected by the city existing, it seemed. The verdict was not hers to decide, however. That wasn’t really the field she invested herself into. 

A mess of documents all around her, Panne finally reached over and flipped open the flap of her bag. A bit of digging brought out the Expedition Gadget that she had been neglecting for the entire trip. Just like she promised, it had been about three days since she even touched the damn thing. 

She glanced up at the huge clock that hung rather threateningly over the edge of the central pit. It was there to help people who easily lost track of time in-doors, of course, but she got the vibe that it mostly reminded them that time was running out. Or maybe that was just the gothic design speaking. Either way, the hour hand had snuck past noon. Taking the different positions of the sun into consideration, in Lively City it would be about... 

While spacing off in that direction, her eyes caught on the garish figure nearby. The king of Paradise himself had settled down at a nearby table with some old books, sifting from page to page in search of something. The cogs that had already been turning in Panne's head sped up even faster as an interesting thought bubbled to the surface. 

"Hey, king! Reinhardt!" Panne called out to him. "You wanna see something funny?" 

The Chesnaught tilted his head. She beckoned him over again and held back a smirk. Shrugging out his shoulders, he marked his page and pushed to a stand with a tired grunt. 

"What is it, Panne? Is it something about Alex's request?" 

She flicked the switch on the back of the Gadget and angled her reflection just off to the side of Reinhardt. A blue glow boiled up from within the orb. "So I'm not actually the person from the Society who deals with this sort of data. I'm gonna have to send this stuff over to the Archeops that can--see what he makes of it compared to the rest of our records. But also…" 

Right on cue, the Connection Orb began to flash and chime. This was around the time Floatzel would be at his desk, after all. Surely he'd have noticed that Panne's device had come on out the corner of his eye. Then he'd whip around so quick that he'd nearly spill his coffee. And then, when she picked up... 

Click. In the spherical distortion of the orb, she saw an image of the console room, and in its center was a very cross-looking water type. 

"Panne," Floatzel slowly began. "You knew I'd be looking when you turned that gadget on." 

"Mhm." 

"...When Ampharos gave Vallion permission to leave, you also knew that he did not mean you. On top of everyone else that's out, now you're not here to fill in any of the gaps. You knew that, too, but you left anyway and dropped it on the rest of us." 

She smiled. "Sure did. How was geology?" 

Floatzel slammed his arms down on the desk. "I don't know fucking anything about geology, Panne! It was a goddamn disaster and I completely embarrassed myself! And what were those notes?! Sweet merciful lord of the sea I couldn't make head nor fucking tail of them! How was I supposed to use that diagram on the board when all the information was scattered across every other page?!" 

"Join the club. Blame Mawile for those, by the way." 

"It's been an absolute madhouse around here! I should slam you into janitorial duties for leaving out of the blue like that! Honestly, it's bad enough when the others do it! I need some semblance of consistency out of you guys for once! How do you think we reliable people feel when we have to pick up all the slack?! Why do you think Kadabra's been posting such crazy schedules?! Where even are you, anyway?! Who is that behind you?" 

Snickering, the Delphox tilted the gadget so that Reinhardt was finally in full view. "It's the ruler of Paradise, obviously. You should watch your tone. He's a king, you know." 

"That isn't- it's not-!" Floatzel's voice started to falter. "That isn't really the king...the king of Paradise standing behind you…" 

"And we're in a library, you loon. Keep it down. Some people--including me--are trying to do research. I got a big task from one of the airheads here and I have to give something to Archeops." 

The water type had fallen silent. The longer he stared, the farther his eyes seemed to wander. With a grunt, he glanced away and put his finger on the control panel. "Whatever, Panne." 

Click. The pale blue emptied of light and reflected the tabletop just beyond it. 

At that point, Panne couldn't quite hold it in any longer. The giggles that scraped the top of her throat burst through her smile. She set her head down onto the desk, struggling to keep her chuckling in manageable library levels. 

"Did- did you see his face? How it just slowly dawns on him? It never gets old, I swear!" 

Though Reinhardt didn't seem quite as amused as she did, he couldn't help but laugh along a little. "He did look a little frazzled, didn't he? Was that the same Floatzel who discovered that city along the ocean floor?" 

She wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Atlantia or whatever. He just falls for the same thing every time, though! Once he exploded at me in front of the head of the Kecleon family, and another time it was literally Suicune! He just- he doesn't ever care to look behind me before blowing up! It's hilarious!" 

The king smiled his big, doofy smile again. He didn't say anything, but Panne got enough from that grin that she started to shoo him away, saying that there was business to get back to. Wringing a good joke out of their presence doesn’t change what happened in the past. They weren't and could never be a friend, no matter how funny it is when Floatzel embarrasses himself in front of important figures. 

The distraction ended when she finally got a hold of herself a minute later. The gadget laid dormant and probably would for as long as Floatzel was pouting. She twisted a few knobs and went on with her work. 

Archeops picked up a little later. Busy with the work she left them all, no doubt. It looked like he was still in the process of flipping the gadget over when he picked up the call. The arched ceiling of an empty lecture hall was the backdrop to an orbful of ruffled plumage. 

“Oh. There you are,” he said after a few moments. “What’s up with you? Disappearing along with Vallion wasn’t a very nice thing to do. Though it was a very obvious thing to do, I suppose. I would’ve been more surprised if you hadn’t gone, honestly. Anyways, what’s going on?” 

She twisted a bit of the fur on her shoulder around her claw. “Well he wasn’t the only one that got his hands on a mission up here. There’s no defined price tag on it, either, so I’m hoping this picks up the slack for like half a year of revenue and you all shut up about us leaving. So I got some environmental data from up here and I was hoping you’d be able to take a look at it.” 

Archeops’ expression went from tired to elated in the span of a second. “From Paradise, you say? We haven’t updated our books on northern Mist Continent for years! That’s actually kind of exciting! Though, uh, what am I supposed to be looking for in the data, again?” 

“Well technically I’m getting paid to make sure the world isn’t ending? You know how Dark Matter supposedly caused all sorts of anomalies in nature before it actually happened? Yeah, we’re looking to see if any of those are going on.” 

“...Uh. Should I be worried, or..?” 

Panne shrugged. “Probably not. That’s why I came to ask you, of course. If Paradise wants a detailed analysis on why the planet’s crust isn’t cracking apart, then they’re gonna fuckin’ get one. And I mean shit, at least I got work that kinda falls under my jurisdiction, you know?” 

“What about Vallion?” Archeops tilted his head. “If you’re sifting through research, then what’s he doing right now?” 

“Ha. I’m pretty sure it’d compromise something if I said it out loud. It’s definitely that kinda mission to be sure. I didn’t sign anything to keep my mouth shut but I’m not about to risk the bag of jingling coins they’re dangling in front of me. Anyways, I should give you these numbers before I get too distracted.” 

Notes were copied. Information was sent. Acknowledgements were made. After all that time she spent writing this stuff down, it only took Archeops a handful of minutes to pen it down on his end. Once that call ended and the Expedition Gadget flickered out, it was only a matter of time before Alexander would get his definitive, expert answers. Yep. All out of her hands now. 

...Well that doesn’t feel like nearly enough work, does it? What else is she supposed to do? Go out and take readings herself, blindly searching for further signs that should’ve already been encompassed by the notebook she’d closed the cover of? Where else would go to look for an impending apocalypse? Does it even matter? 

Slumped back in her chair, the Delphox found that she didn’t really care. Her mind wandered back around to the grandiose building she was in. Then to the massive city she found herself in the center of. As her idle thoughts stretched on, she couldn’t help but wonder about what her Val was doing out there in those cold streets. The wonder quickly turned to worry. The worry got in the way of everything else after that. She couldn’t be involved, obviously, but she had to at least know what was going on. 

Master Grumpig wasn’t too hard to find. All she had to do was follow the incessant humming around a few corners and there he was, fussing over the order of the books on some random shelf. He was so engrossed in this apparently vital task that he didn’t even notice Panne float over--probably because the action of floating over didn’t make any noise. 

“Hey.” 

The psychic type sprung so high that they nearly touched the top of the bookcase. “What?! Huh! Oh, you- W- What can I help you with, professor?” 

“Weird question,” she cautiously began. “You wouldn’t happen to have any information on the gangs around these parts anywhere in this library, would you? Or maybe you could just tell me outright.” 

“Um. You see…” Grumpig began to stutter. “There’d surely be...something you could parse about them from the public records of trials! Perhaps you could draw some conclusions from there!” 

“You don’t sound particularly sure about that. What’s the matter, I thought this place was supposed to be a grand archive? Isn’t the pokemon living in Paradise something that should be archived?” 

The psychic type scratched at the back of his head, jostling his glasses as his snout curled. “Well it’s a touchy subject if you don’t mind me saying. There’s been quite a bit of unrest these days, and a lot of it coincides with the...movements of certain groups within the public. There is so much debate that I cannot even say how many of those groups are out there, or which ones should be so crassly classified as ‘gangs’.” 

“Hmph.” Panne angled herself away. “So you don’t know anything about them, then.” 

“Wait! Hold on a moment!” He carelessly set aside the books that were in his hands onto the lip of a nearby shelf. “I can say that there are three, uh. Yes, three major groups within the general public apart from government! And they...Well, I suppose you’re partially right. I don’t tend to leave this part of the city much, heh. There isn’t much I can personally tell you about them.” 

She started to drift away, already forgetting the conversation to make room for figuring out which kinds of trials she had to slog through to get anywhere. 

“But!” Grumpig continued. “I might be able to refer you to somebody whose heart is closer to the streets!” 

The Delphox’s ears swiveled right around. “Really? Well go on, then. I’m listening.”


	7. The Ear to the Streets

How was it even possible that all of these pokemon were used to the cold? How could she, a fire type of all things, shiver and shudder atop her staff while creatures that had no right living here pranced through the snow like it was nothing? A fucking family of Jumpluff protected by nothing more than a single scarf each drifted happily on the same breeze that made the tips of her ears feel like pincushions. And like a punchline in some cosmic comedy, a couple of grass types were the sovereign rulers of this terrible valley. 

While the Delphox silently scolded herself for not at least bringing a hat, she took the time to absorb the names of the streets she ambled through. This place was quite a bit more confusing than Lively City, especially in the fact that most of it looked the same. It might actually be kinda fun to make her own map of here. Well, if it wasn’t so fucking miserable outside all the time. 

This section of town seemed to have invaded a forest at some point, or was inversely invaded by a forest. Much of it was built around unworkable sections of silt cliffs. The only reliable way to reinforce those landslide hazards would be to leave the evergreens and their roots where they stood, and so the city planners did. Brief tastes of wilderness ran parallel to freshly plowed stone streets, separating a cramped urban landscape from a useful imprisonment of nature. 

Panne took a turn into a claustrophobic little passage that technically counted as a road. Passing beneath the shadows of towering brick and wood for a short ways, she ducked into what appeared to be a small market amidst the chaos. Peddlers and craftsmen. Shops and services. Worn down signs and the booming voices to make up for them. She really didn’t need that Exploud to tell her about his roof repair service, nor did she care that they even worked through the winter. 

The commotion seemed to be mostly front-loaded, at least. The further into the little ravine of buildings she got, the more it opened up, the less sales were being shoved into her face. In fact, the atmosphere became much heavier when it got quiet. It was like she could feel the weight of the snow bearing down on this neighborhood. The almost gentle look of disrepair, where everything was still being held together, but only just barely. Like old, warped wood about half a year before the rot. 

Yep. This seemed like the right place. 

The only thing left was to follow the signs. She came to a city block that lived in the shadow of its neighboring buildings. These roads were too far out of the way for anyone to bother plowing them, so the dozen or so trails of footprints that traveled from door to door were the only signs that anyone lived here at all. It was so quiet that she could nearly hear the flakes falling. Her sigh caught on the wind as she came to the end of the alley. 

There was an abandoned storefront, its windows boarded up and everything. A rickety wooden staircase started from the far corner of the building and took a horizontal path up to the second floor, which looked considerably less shitty. Panne was thankful she didn’t actually have to touch the ground as she traveled up that skeletal stairway. At the top was a small balcony with a windowed door. The blinds on the other side were shut, but she could just make out a faded white logo and some tiny writing. 

“...An office? Private Investigator?” she thought out loud. “Tch. I guess that makes sense. Anyone from a neighborhood like this ought to have plenty of work…” 

She gave the door a sturdy knock and waited. A short while later, she tried again. When an icy gust came instead of an answer, the Delphox touched her good leg down on the balcony and tried to let her own damn self in. The door was unlocked, but the entryway couldn’t have been darker. She hurriedly shut herself in and shook the last of the snow from her fur. In the short time it took for her eyes to adjust, she conjured a small flame at the end of her fingers and took in her surroundings. 

The place certainly wasn’t in disrepair, at least. A handful of paintings lined the entryway. A potted plant happily grew in the corner. Everything was more or less clean, apart from a bit of sweeping that needed to be done. Despite all that, it was...disconcertingly dark in here. There weren’t even any candles as far as she could see. 

“Hello? Anyone here?” Panne spoke out, advancing down the hall into what would be the office proper. The windows at the far end at least provided some ambience--as little as the shut blinds allowed, that is. It was enough to even see the four corners of the room, and the desk at its center. Much of the furniture aside from the desk and one of the three cabinets seemed designed for a smaller pokemon in mind. 

“The dame strut in, her fiery hair bright and her fire even brighter.” 

The tiny voice came from somewhere atop the desk. It was hard to pinpoint the source until the shadow sitting on top of a stack of books started to move. A Noibat. 

“She seemed surprised,” they continued. “Most pokemon did, seein’ me. Doesn’t mean they didn’t didn’t find what they were looking for. This one had a burning in her eyes, and legs for…” The pause went on for longer than it should have. “A leg for days.” 

Panne struggled not to cringe. “Okay, buddy. Cut the shit for a second. I’m looking for the pokemon that’s supposed to help me out. I was told there was a Nibby somewhere around here. You heard of them or what?” 

The Noibat stuck his nose up higher. “I don’t see anyone else in this room. Do you?” 

“...You’re supposed to be Nibby? Well, that explains the weirdly cute name, I suppose.” 

The dragon didn’t grumble or moan. He ignored her outright, crawling over to the other side of the desk and briefly lifting off with a flap. A small puff of blue flames left his mouth and hit the end of a pipe. He lifted his side of the pipe with his wings and began to take a drag from the smoldering contents, letting the smoke linger in his tiny throat before blowing the sweet-smelling air at her face. She squinted at him with a bemused grin. 

“Strange, ain’t it? Seeing a small pokemon like me in a position like this? Can’t say I get too worked up over the reality of my appearance. There aren’t much of my kind this far north. Nobody can tell the features of a Noibat child from an older one, and the cold’s never done anyone any good for growth, either.” 

“Fair enough. I don’t know how old you are, but I was definitely doing worse while younger..” The Delphox shrugged. “Why keep a name like that if you wanna be taken seriously, though?” 

He ignored the question outright and hopped to the edge of the desk, balancing on the bends of his wings. “What brings you to my office, Delphox? I understand you heard my name from someone else?” 

She snuffed the flame at the end of her claw, and instead filled that hand with a roll of willow bark. Leaning backwards, she willed her staff to go vertical and catch her weight like a wall. “The Master of Books himself, actually.” 

“Hm. Is that so?” 

“It is so. And what’s more is how little of help he actually was. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly looking for your services. What I am looking for are answers to what should be a couple fairly simple questions. I was told you could probably help me out with them.” 

A miniscule murmur in his throat, Nibby leaned over and inhaled another lungful of the pipe’s contents. “Depends on the questions.” 

“I need to know about the gangs around here. Grumpig told me there were three big ones, but that’s about all I could get out of him before he started blabbering. I didn’t want to bother sifting through records of trials just to get a bunch of inoffensive legal-speak.” 

The Noibat paused again. It was too difficult to see his exact expression in the dark. “That’s a dangerous question.” 

“So?” Panne crossed her arms. “I’m a dangerous person, and I don’t give a damn if I’m getting dangerous answers. I can’t exactly go out and fucking ask people on the street. You gonna give me what I want or not?” 

“Well hold on just a minute. These aren’t issues you’d find yourself talking over during a sunday breakfast. There’s a reason you couldn’t find anything in the archive.” 

Her tail twitched back and forth, catching on her staff over and over. “Oh, I get it. If I was sent here by someone and you end up saying the wrong thing, that could be your neck, right? I'm definitely not from this place if that's what you're worried about." 

"Actually, I think I might have a pretty good idea of who you might be." 

"Ha!" Panne sucked in a breath through the burning bark, shuddering as warmth finally started to settle back into her body. "And again, my reputation precedes me. Not that I'm ever gonna complain about it. Just goes to show-" 

"You're the Fennekin that stopped the world from falling into the sun, ain't ya?" 

She froze, mouth hanging open stupidly while her remedy burned centimeters away from her lips. The Delphox stood up straight with a slight push from her staff. "That wasn't what I was expecting to hear." 

Nibby hummed. "Close to the mark on that wild guess, was I?" 

"...Hmph." She finally finished the motion and brought the bark to her mouth. 

"It's the scarf," the Noibat said. "The tale I heard really goes into the pattern on the scarf. I ain't ever seen a marital scarf look exactly like that one. That and I ain't ever heard of anyone talkin' to a Master so casually. Didn't really believe in that story fully, but here you are, I suppose. 

She shook her head. "I just don't hear about that much anymore. It seems that everyone either didn't live through it or just forgot. I don't even think about it myself anymore." 

He finally shot her a smile. "Ain't that like all pokemon do, though? Life is so quick, so...temporary. Hell, a lot of the people that live in Paradise have blood that hasn't settled down for generations. Years come and go and you hardly notice a thing. Next thing you know, you’ve been a detective for eight years and it’s been…” 

“...Nevermind that. It’s different here, you know. Memories hold up in this place. Grudges and promises don’t go away. It may have seemed like an eternity ago for you, but I remember my mother telling your story like it was yesterday.” 

She got through the last of the medicine, and with one final huff she threw the spent ashes into a nearby bin. “Well what about it?” 

“I’m just wondering what a fantastical character like you’s doing in my office, asking me about a topic most pokemon will veer hard to avoid.” 

Nibby went in for another lungful of his pipe. In that moment, Panne pulled a thin sheet of paper from the fur of her sleeve, unfolded it to its full glory, and telekinetically whisked it over onto the desk. Alexander’s writ of passage seemed to glow in the strenuous light, though it was mostly just the color on the wax stamp. Still, the mere sight of it got a grumble out of the Noibat. 

“Ah,” he muttered. “That kind of business.” 

“Yeah, that kind. And as you might be able to guess, it’d be stupid if I went any farther into what that business entailed. So are you gonna tell me what I need to know, or is the consultation not free?” 

A couple blue embers left Nibby’s mouth as he exhaled. Some contemplative tapping of his wingtips later, he flipped around and flew off towards the largest cabinet, grappling at the handle with his feet and pulling it open. He scanned the contents for a moment and returned with an unmarked brown folder between his feet. The wind of it landing nearly brushed Alexander’s letter right off the side. 

“Sure. Why not. Maybe something will come of it this time.” 

The folder was certainly not Noibat-sized, yet he managed to flip it open all the same with the digits on the bends of his wings. Before skipping through the documents within, he twisted his head and shot a couple blue sparks from his mouth like spitballs, lighting a trio of candles in the corner of the desk. He glanced over to the Delphox. 

“Have a seat. Makes me nervous for you to just stand there.” 

“What? Don’t think I can stand on my own?” She huffed, then pulled up one of the two nearby wooden stools. The coarse wood immediately started to catch on her fur. 

With a bit of effort and a preparatory breath, Nibby sorted through the folder until he came to something that looked like a trade contract of some kind. He then hopped over and put his foot down on the stamped emblem at the top right of the page. It was a crest wreathed in footprint text, its four corners occupied by decorative images that were too small and too smudged to be made out. 

“We’ll start with the most controversial and work our way down to street thugs,” the Noibat said. “This first one most pokemon don’t consider to be a gang at all. Rusty Mountain Mercantile Guild. It’s based in the eastern part of town and has a substantial hand in every cookie jar this side of Paradise, this neighborhood included. I’m sure you noticed the bustling market on your way in?” 

She nodded, frowning. “Awfully loud. They must’ve thought I was made of money or something.” 

“If you were, they would’ve ripped you apart on the spot. Rusty Mountain’s goal is to wring every last business of their coin, be it by tariffs or competition. Those folk out in the alley are just trying to get by without that yoke around them. Cruel, but not particularly gang-like, right? You’d expect it in an economy like this.” 

Nibby leaned over and pointed to a paragraph halfway down the page. Certain passages were already underlined. “They’re the sneakiest bastards of the bunch, operating in-between the lines of law and order. This is a cease-and-desist order sent to a shop they caught operating under the radar. More specifically, it’s not the one that comes in the mail, but the one that they slip under your door. They give you both.” 

More political mumbo-jumbo, as far as Panne could tell. However, if she just focused on the highlighted bits, there was definitely something more sinister going on. ‘Forceful seizure of goods and property’ certainly seemed like a choice use of words. It went hand-in-hand with ‘legal acquisition process’ and ‘by the constitution of Paradise and His Majesty’s will’. 

“Ah. So they firebomb your shop and take your shit if you don’t play by their rules?” Panne said. 

The Noibat nodded. “Good eye. They’re the least illegal of the three groups, I suppose you could say, but anyone not plugging their ears knows about the kinds of hell they put you through. It’s spearheaded by a former Master of Trade, who planted the seeds for his fortune long before he got kicked out and mysteriously pardoned for embezzlement. Even those who benefit from the guild’s existence probably won’t have many kind words for that Persian.” 

Panne shrugged. “Alright. Corrupt guild, immoral means. That’s easy to understand. What’s next?” 

A look of confusion passed over Nibby’s eyes before they hopped away and started flipping through more of the folder. A flood of barely-incriminating letters and vague threats went by until he finally landed on a document clearly belonging to the kingdom itself. It appeared to be some kind of report, or a news article or something. It spoke of a bust that the Master of Law had performed on a few individuals who were hoarding the wheat they had harvested a season prior. Nothing else. 

“...What’s so bad about that?” she asked. 

“There’s a...reasonable amount of freedom here. The monarchy is more concerned with keeping things running smoothly than anything else. Unless you’re a farmer. Then your soul belongs to the king and you damn well better like it, because there’s plenty of other vagrants out there just waiting to get put in the same damn spot you are. You know how much food it takes to keep this city fed?” 

She clicked her tongue. “Yeah. Enough to permanently alter the region’s weather patterns. I already checked.” 

“Then you know how important it is that our food gets distributed fairly, and well enough that it will last us through awful winters like this one. The whole network is owned and mediated by the king and His Master of Trade. Like anything around here, there’s plenty of bad apples caught in the gears.” 

Nibby turned the page, revealing a report regarding several smuggling crimes, and yet more food hoarding. Another page, another set of laws broken, another throne of bread dismantled. Why was it so consistent? What, was the Reinhardt ‘The Kind’ starving his own damn people that much? 

He must have seen the look on her face. “Weird, right? You notice how they’re all on the northwest side of town, too? All that belongs to a group they call The Family. Though they’ve got their fingers in quite a few different guilds themselves, you’ll find the heart of this beast in the only chartered business that’s authorized to trade food at all. I heard a Mandibuzz drives the thing. Calls herself The Matriarch, apparently, but that’s all hearsay.” 

“And the last of the three?” Panne egged on, her leg bouncing with impatience. 

“Why so eager?” Nibby stepped off the page to take another drag of his pipe. “You’re a teacher now, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have thought a learned pokemon such as yourself would be so hasty after twistin’ my leg so much. Don’t it pay to be thorough?” 

Her tail practically thrashed to the side. “That writ you nearly knocked to the floor isn’t an invitation to take my time and mull over every last detail. The sooner I come up with answers, the better.” 

One thoughtful shrug later, Nibby turned to the tail end of the folder and sifted through what remained. The last of the papers didn’t seem to have much in common with one another. Some of it was propaganda that was clearly peeled off a wall at some point. Some of it, reports of various crimes without as much interconnectivity as the last game. 

Then, the Noibat came to the very last document. A crumpled up page of ordinary paper, all blank except for the letter that was brazenly written at its center. A jagged ‘S’ made up of three lines. 

“Shardurr,” Nibby spat the word out like it was burning on his tongue. Then he flew up and slammed the folder shut, landing on it as if to keep the evidence from escaping. “You’re probably seen their work cut into the bricks already and not realized it. If you came here hoping to hear about common street thugs, I’ve got good news. That’s the most positive thing I can attribute to these two-tongued motherfuckers. They’re petty crooks that prey on the weak and spout childish nonsense. Nothing less, nothing more.” 

Ah. There we go, Panne thought to herself. Drawing the symbol in the air with a claw, she chuckled and motioned like she was gouging chunks out of the air. “That makes a hell of a lot more sense now. It’s actually obvious a Weavile’s in charge of that. No wonder Alex had his suspicions.” 

“A Weavile? Who said anything about one of those?” Nibby tilted his head, his proportionally massive ears bouncing with the motion. “As far as I’m aware, Shardurr’s been run by a Swellow and Druddigon for almost as long as it’s been around. Particularly the bastard dragon.” 

Panne gestured for the Noibat to step away and leaned in. She opened back up to that last page, laid that crumpled paper out flat, and drew another simplified ‘S’ on top of it. 

“That’s clearly a tribal marker,” she explained. “I reckon there were a lot of Weavile tribes around these parts until Paradise swallowed their territories whole. Not sure if you knew this, but they often communicated with their own and neighboring tribes by carving symbols into trees, stones, and ice. It’s essentially a region-specific alphabet. If Shardurr marks their territory by specifically chiseling this symbol into the walls, that’s a clear sign of Weavile influence. And also a good place to start looking.” 

Nibby went silent. You could practically see the gears in his head start to turn as he started to pace about the edge of the desk. After a few laps, he looked up at the writ of permission and grumbled to himself. 

“I’ve still not heard of a Weavile anywhere near the top. Where are you getting this from?” 

“The big ol’ snake on top, that’s who. Grumpig isn’t the only chump I’ve had the displeasure of meeting. There’s probably a good reason nobody knows about the real leader of Shardurr. It’s not _technically_ my job to figure that part out, but it could be _related_ to my job. That’s good enough in my book.” 

The Noibat hopped on top of a stack of books in a flurry of flaps. “And just what do you intend on doing with this information?” 

Panne pushed up from the stool and mounted her staff in the span of a second. A victorious twitch in her ears, she made herself comfortable and shrugged. “Nothing. Just reconfirming what I know. Got anything else to tell me about Shardurr? There’s gotta be more to it than that.” 

“You do realize the kind of pokemon you’re dealing with here, right? They are thieves. They are kidnappers. They are killers. I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done, fucking with them is the last thing you want to do. If the Master of Law told you to get anywhere near Shardurr, he put you on a suicide mission. You best quit and go home before you get too deep.” 

She coughed. “Ha. Too late for that.” 

“What?” 

The Delphox lowered herself to the Noibat’s level, her lame leg falling against the floor with a thump. “Listen, you little twerp. I ain’t the one that’s dove headfirst into this shit, but I’m also not gonna sit on my ass while he does it. As far as I’m aware, this Bunnelby hole goes a couple miles deeper than you think it does, and I ain’t even at the bottom yet. Anyways, I got plenty to work with now.” 

“Hey! Where are you going?” Nibby shouted as she turned away, his voice projecting twice as loud through the domes of his ears. 

She bent her own ears back in annoyance. “Where do you think I’m going? I’ve got to research the Weavile tribes that used to live in this valley. Whether that’s conveniently in the archives or something I have to physically go and figure out, I’m not sure yet, but it’s a damn good place to start. Thanks for your time, detective.” 

Before Panne could float even halfway to the door, something landed on the back end of her staff. After briefly rolling her eyes, she twisted around and looked expectantly at the Noibat. 

“Yes?” she said. 

“Listen. I don’t know what the hell kinda mission that crockety Serperior sent you on, but-” 

“I swear to whichever god fits your bill,” Panne began. “You’re not convincing me of anything. These little scuffs on society don’t scare me, and even if they should, I’m perfectly fine getting what’s coming to me.” 

“Would you let me finish? I want in on it--what you’re doing. This mission Master Alexander sent you on.” 

“You-” Her ears swiveled. “Why?” 

The Noibat huffed, barely keeping his balance with the natural sway of Panne’s levitation. “Because I’ve got a bad feeling about it, but dammit it’s the first thing I’ve felt in a long time! You wanna know about those old tribes? Hell, I’ll take you right to their kids. You got the initiative, I got the knowledge. All you gotta do is say yes.” 

"But I'm not going to pay you or anything! What's the point? You even said it yourself that this stuff is too dangerous to mess with! Why the sudden change of heart?" 

"If you're not going to tell me your story, why should I tell you mine?" 

Ah. Shit. She clicked her tongue. "Whatever. Fair enough. It might be useful to have somebody competent around, anyway. Oh, and one more thing. 

The Delphox lazily lifted a hand into the air and beckoned at the trio of candles on the desk. Their wicks flickered wildly as she pulled the flames right off and ushered the wisps towards her. The glare of the tiny fires shined in the Noibat's eyes as the fire danced around her wrist, changing from yellow to red and shrinking into bright lights as thin as the point of a pin. 

"You say you know about my legend, but I still don't think you believe in it. You're convinced that a handful of dumb thugs would be enough to do me in. I just want you to realize, I was still a kid when I did all those things." 

She snapped her fingers. The three flares burst into a dazzling display of noise and sound, popping into miniature explosions that briefly illuminated the room like bolts of crimson lightning. Nibby launched up from the end of her staff with a yelp. Yet it was already over, and they were back in the darkness, with him fluttering in the center of the room. 

"I'm not a kid anymore," she said. "I won't be underestimated. Not by anyone in this miserable fucking city. Whatever it is you want out of a partnership like this, you better give me the same respects. Nobody here's gonna use me and get away with it." 

On that note, she willed her staff forward and continued out the door, gritting her teeth against the rush of cold as it instantly sapped away her warmth. The Bunnelby hole was starting to get deeper, alright, and she already felt herself slipping at the edge.


	8. It Goes Wrong

Vallion let out a small gasp. His eyes fluttered open, and it was suddenly morning. The dreamless sleep shed off of him in an instant, like a large gap in time had just passed in the blink of an eye. Even beneath this raggedy, scratchy blanket, he was no warmer now than he was hours ago. Sticking his head out from the nest he’d built on a wool-scrap cot, he saw that daylight had indeed filtered its way into his room. Gloomy, monochrome daylight, tinted by the endless snowfall. 

Though it wasn’t much, Vallion was hesitant to leave his lukecold bed. He already had a tough enough time holding onto heat without Panne to wrap around. Extra blankets were a bit too steep a price around here. If money wasn’t currently an issue, he’d get one just to wrap around as a poor replacement for her. It just didn’t feel right otherwise. 

The Serperior groaned and left what little comfort he’d found in that bed behind. The inn’s old floorboards creaked under his weight as he at least attempted to make the old sheets for the roomkeeper. If there even was roomkeeping in a place this cheap. 

Once that was finished, though, there was basically nothing else to do. He had almost no belongings to keep track of and barely had a schedule to keep. Hell, the only thing he really owned was this scarf around his neck. It made him strangely yearn for those busy days as an explorer, hauling around packs full of equipment. 

The connecting hall was made of the same dingy cedar wood as everything else. The lanterns made it almost bearable at night, but during the day when everything was put out, it might as well have been total darkness. Vallion found his way to the stairs simply by following the only glimmer of light there was to see, nearly colliding with a hurried Machop in the process. 

It didn’t get much better past the lobby, but at least he could finally see by virtue of shuttered windows and candlelight. The inn’s oppressive atmosphere extended into a tight-lipped silence which was constantly broken by the creaks and groans of the place. Nobody wanted to be here. And yet, here they all were. A dozen faces passed through, full of repressed frowns and sleepless eyes, all wishing they were somewhere else. At least the hearth was warm, though. 

Hot water was cheap. The owner was a Torkoal who was glad to rake in a profit just by virtue of their species. Coffee, though? Tea? He might as well empty out the last of his gold on the spot for such luxuries. Vallion was more than content with just heated water. 

Breakfast, on the other hand, was another story. Food was insanely expensive, and unlike the water, he didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. A small wooden bowl of oran berries and some salted bread still emptied half his purse. He hardly tasted the food as it went down, as he was too busy praying that the job today would earn him at least a hot dinner. 

His wounds hurt. They were minor at worst, but nothing was helping them along by any stretch of the imagination. The Serperior shifted uncomfortably on a rug in front of the hearth, absorbing as much of the heat as he could while his bruises throbbed. He was going to need every once of warmth he could get before heading out. Though it mostly just made him drowsier. 

"Hey," a gruff voice called out from beside him. "Quit hoggin' the fire. Move over." 

It took a moment for Vallion to realize that he wasn't invisible to everyone else. He glanced at the Seismitoad who was hounding him, blinked in silence, then relented them a few feet to the right. 

The Seismitoad grunted and settled down onto the old rug. After staring at the fire for some time, a chuckle rose from their throat. 

"Didn't know there was another Serperior in town. How 'bout it, then? Come to take advantage of the chaos and cut the Master of Law down?" 

Vallion kept his eyes trained on the crackling firewood, watching it crack and shatter beneath the heat. "No." 

"Hnn? Then what'dya come here for? Like the scenery, do ya?" When Vallion didn't respond, the Seismitoad just shook their head and turned back to the hearth. "Damn shame, then. This place could use some new management." 

The Serperior tilted their gaze. "What do you mean?" 

“Oh nevermind that. Oftentimes I just go ramblin’ away, saying things I shouldn’t be saying. Never know who might be listening around these parts. If my wanderin’ mouth puts the wrong words together, it’ll sure blow back up in my face! Ha!” 

Vallion kept silent. 

“...I’m sure you ain’t got caught up in that mean business yet, anyway. Can’t have been here too long since I ain’t heard of ya yet. You ain’t a bit talkative, are ya?” 

No kidding. The Serperior closed his eyes, letting the warmth freely wash over his heavy eyelids. Oh, he’s definitely already been introduced to that ‘mean business’ already. In fact, he was supposed to be a part of it now. Whatever that entailed, anyway. 

The Seismitoad broke out into another halfhearted chuckle, the sound quickly brushing his thoughts away. 

“You ain’t seem like the type to care,” they continued. “So I’ll say it anyway. I meant it about that management bit. Livin’ here ain’t no way a pokemon should be livin’. Crammed into our wooden rooms, guards wagglin’ their claws at you whenever you so much as trip, slavin’ your whole day away for just a few bites to eat. Look at us now! We’re huddling around a fateless fire in broad daylight for cryin’ out loud!” 

...Fateless? 

The water type just shook his head. “Yeah. You don’t care. You prolly just passin’ through, right? It ain’t on you to care ‘bout the wave that’s coming. Ya won’t be around for when it happens, but it’ll happen. No doubt about it.” 

“Wave?” Vallion murmured. “What wave?” 

But the Seismitoad had already stood up and started to lumber away. They flagged down one of the two workers and demanded for more food. Just before they fell out of earshot across the lobby, they turned and gave the Serperior a curt nod. 

“The wave a’ change, my boy. By Kyurem it’s comin’, and when it does, everyone here’s gonna get washed away.” 

Linoone’s shifty expression never came to a rest. He peered from street corner to corner, fidgeting with his claws as he sat on the edge of the street. Occasionally he would dare to peek up at Vallion, but quickly looked away whenever he did. This went on for the small handful of minutes they had to wait outside the door of this long-forgotten building. There weren’t any guards. There were barely passersby at all. It was just the two of them, sitting outside some dingy warehouse, staring at the grime while they slowly froze to death. 

A grating screech sounded from behind them. The rusty door had finally been opened, and from inside came a Roserade. They regarded the two pokemon with a dead look before tossing an empty pack at Linoone, who gracelessly took the bag in the face. 

“Oh great,” she began. “Linoone and a newbie. What a fuckin’ joy it’s gonna be today. I ought to have a talk with Freak. My time is worth more than this.” 

“Hey hey! What’s yer problem, Roserade?!” Linoone shouted from beneath a curtain of burlap as he scrambled to strap the bag onto themselves. “You wanna talk big? Like you ain’t goin’ down to the red light for a few extra bucks every night! Who do ya think you are, actin’ so high and mighty when you’re always on your knees?!” 

Roserade barely even seemed to acknowledge Linoone’s presence, instead choosing to size Vallion up. She tapped a bud to her chin. “Tell me you’re not stupid as the last meathead they sent me, Serperior. You do know what we’re doing, right? And what your job is?” 

He gave a shrug with his vines. “I understand we’re collecting some debts that we’re owed. I’m assuming my role in this is to be persuasive on the matter.” 

“Thank the Hollow, they’re not fucking stupid this time.” The Roserade started down the road, gesturing for them to follow. “It’s really that simple. This isn’t even a difficult route. I wish I was doing something a little more meaningful personally, but I guess this is what he chose to occupy the both of you. What a bother. Let's just get this over with already.” 

"Fuckin' bitch," Linoone muttered under his breath. 

The streets of West District all looked the same. No matter how many distinct signs of poverty he saw, there was so much uniquety that it all blended together into a depressing sea of misery. As they followed the Roserade's haughty stride through the slush and snow, Vallion kept his head close to the ground. There was nothing to see, anyway. Best not to meet any eyes. 

In spite of that, he noticed that Linoone kept shooting nervous glances at him. 

"...What?" 

Linoone swung his head to the side and pretended to observe the gloomy scenery, a tiny chuckle in his throat. "You know, bright-eyes, I'm happy and all ya managed to get in. Can’t get much more spot-on for a recommendation. But in this part of town, word kinda...travels quick. So quick that it ends up passin’ through too many mouths, eh? And you know what happens then, yeah?” 

“Spit it out,” Vallion said. 

“I-it’s just that I’ve been hearing some- some stuff! Word around the block is of this crazy new Serperior that- Um. They say he took down a bar full of our guys on his own. Wiped the place clean so bad that Brute was forced to let him in. B-but that’s just a bunch of hyped-up shit, right? Like, some ghost story they’re tellin’ to get people freaked out. You ain’t had the brass to actually do something like that, did ya? ‘Cuz if you did, they could trace it back to me...” 

Vallion chuckled and said nothing. 

The silence drew on, visibly gnawing at Linoone’s composure bit by bit. He repeated himself once more, but did so as if he were asking the ground. 

The Serperior couldn’t help but wonder just what the informant had originally thought of him when they first met in the capitol building. Perhaps he saw him as another of Alexander’s annoying duties? An easy paycheck, maybe? Were they completely unaware of who Vallion was before this? 

“Idiot,” Roserade so cheerfully chimed in. “You’d believe anything that comes out of the mouths of those fools. Nobody but Brute could clear a whole room on his own, and I only say that because saying otherwise gets me decapitated. They’d make mincemeat of this new guy in a heartbeat. Now shut the fuck up, we’re almost to the first place.” 

This neighborhood appeared marginally better than the last. It seemed to have been built a little later, judging from the relatively small size of the cracks. The faces didn’t seem any sweeter, though. A Camerupt impatiently stomped on by, their humps steaming from the snowfall. A loud group of Golbat glared down at them from the edge of a rooftop, becoming ominously quiet while they passed. There was a clear gravity to Shardurr’s presence on these streets. It pulled on Vallion, intensifying with every wary stare that came their way. It was like trying to wade through three feet of ice water. 

Roserade came to a neat little business on the corner of some intersection. It didn’t seem like a particularly busy day, but they still waited out a wagon that had parked on the side. From the crates that were loaded into its back, this shop appeared to be some sort of bulk supplier. Of what, he could only guess. There wasn’t even a sign out front. 

Once that wagon pulled away, Roserade started past the large loading doors as they swung to a close, heading instead to the front entrance on the very corner. She gestured for her two followers to hurry up and led them into the stinging comfort of a fire-lit lobby. A few rows of seats and some books on a table were the only inhabitants. According to the signs, this was a distributor for...building materials, it seemed? Or whatever else you could do with exact mixtures of different minerals sold by the quarter-ton. 

After slapping the bell on the front desk, Roserade shot an expectant glance back at Vallion. There was a shuffling in the far back that echoed off of hollow warehouse walls. All they could see of the Crustle as it scuttled in was the huge malachite geode it had taken as a shell. It crawled up a ramp on the other side of the desk, laid eyes on the visitors, and immediately took a step back. 

“Wha-” they started. “I- I already paid you at the beginning of the month! On the fifth--I know I did! I marked it on the calendar! You shouldn’t be back for another week!” 

“Yeah. I know. We’re calling it early,” Roserade said with a shake of her head. “Turns out it gets expensive preparing for a cold winter. Surely that’s not too hard to understand. We’ll bump up next month to make up for it. How’s that sound?” 

The Crustle slammed their claws on the desk. “You say that every other month, and yet it never happens! I’ve been ‘bumped up’ so many times that I’ve already paid for an extra month and a half! Why should I give you crooks anything?!” 

Roserade’s face contorted into a sneer. “You remember the damage that the riots caused last year? Do you want that to happen to your business? To your home? The luckiest pokemon have only now managed to rebuild. If you want to stay in our good graces and our protection, there’s a price to pay. Though you’re more than welcome to move shop to the east and have to suck off Rusty Mountain every pay period." 

"You know what? Maybe I will! You Shardurr slime have done nothing but hound me from the day you showed up! I’ve half a mind to call the guards on you right now!” 

A sigh slowly fell from Vallion’s nose. He turned his head and set a narrowed pupil dead in the Crustle’s beady eyes. “You don’t want to do that. Just as much as I don’t want to get my hands dirty. You deal with large sums of coin, right? You’d have to with this kind of business. Having just made a sale not minutes ago, you surely have the money we need.” 

The rock type jeered. “And who are you supposed to be, you overgrown green bean? I don’t want to give you bastards a damn penny!” 

This guy must have been fed up with being cheated. Vallion didn’t blame him one bit, but sympathy wasn’t something this gangster persona was meant to express. He nodded his head, briefly scanned the room, and extended a vine over to one of the chairs meant for bipedal pokemon. It was made of a very heavy, very sturdy wood--a stark contrast from the plywood garbage he’d seen in Shardurr’s hideout. He lifted it in front of the Crustle and squeezed as hard as he could. The heavy chair whined and groaned under pressure of his vine, up until it splintered across the seat and split in two. The pieces slammed into the counter one after another. 

“It’s not about what anybody wants,” the Serperior continued, casually withdrawing his vine. “I’m just saying, if I took that rock off of you, you’d be easier to crack than that chair was.” 

It didn’t take long for the Crustle to muster up some coins after that. The bag Linoone had equipped was difficult to open, and presumably even more difficult to take off of his person. Apparently perfect for storing the haul which their client had so graciously offered. Once the deed was finished, Roserade clicked her tongue towards the shop owner before heading towards the exit. Vallion took the time to set the parts of the chair he destroyed back where he found them before he left. 

Once they were back out in the biting cold, it took Roserade a block before she finally started to laugh. 

“This is supposed to be your first day? What the fuck was that? I thought I was gonna have to carry both of your weights, but I guess you got some killer in you after all.” 

Vallion gave a shrug with his vestigial hands. “I would vastly prefer that I didn’t have to kill anyone at all.” 

“Fuck.” Linoone spat into the snow. “Why don’t ya just take this fucking bag then if I’m so useless, ya two-bit big-mouthed whore?” 

A chuckle almost as cold as the air left the grass type’s throat. She shot a glance back at Vallion. “Do you know why we keep this coward around? It ain’t because of strength or intelligence, oh no. We keep him because he’s a slippery little fuck. Plant your money bag on him and it’s almost guaranteed that he’ll make it home crying when trouble starts up.” 

“And we keep you around cuz of how far your legs spread apart,” Linoone shot back. “Least I didn’t fuck my way up the ladder.” 

“Be quiet,” Vallion commanded, and so it was. 

A brief stop was made near a vein of alleys. Roserade had the two of them wait out in the road and entered the gloom with their money in tow. She came back out with a significantly lighter bag and a satisfied look. There must have been a network of basements like the one of the pub he was inducted in. 

Their next destination took them further into the better parts of town. There were more pokemon out and about, and much less of the usual ugly degradation. Streets were actually plowed and seemingly well-maintained. Winter trees and hardy bushes were given room to grow in plots between buildings. The further north they traveled, the more level the landscape became, the better off everything looked. Not to mention the new presence of guard patrols, something Vallion never even saw in the bowels of West District. 

They came to an establishment that appeared to be a tavern of some kind. Or a brewery--it was hard to tell. There was a place in the front to get plastered and a warm fire to keep you from freezing to death, so it might as well have been a tavern. The pokemon there didn’t pay nearly as much mind to their arrival as those near their first stop. Even aside from those who weren’t particularly cognizant at the moment. Actually, how much influence did Shardurr really have up here? 

“Ah! Roserade!” A Vileplume greeted their band of crooks with open arms and a smile. “It’s about that time, eh? Let’s head on back. No need to get our hands dirty in the open.” 

The two grass types were practically hand-in-hand as they pressed past a series of doors and down a staircase into the earth. Aside from the pungent smell of fermentation, the cellar they entered had a distinct sweetness in the air. There, kegs and barrels sat in relative darkness, waiting for their day to finally come. A lone candle at the end of a table in the corner was all that gave light once they turned inwards. 

“It’s been a good month, let me tell you,” the Vileplume cheerfully went on. “Last few batches were extraordinary. Parasect has a good taste for these things, you know that? He’s been turning us quite the profit.” 

“Is that so? Who would’ve thought, huh?” Roserade said. “I imagine you’ve been enjoying that extra breathing room? Or was that room already filled with that opal bracelet I knew you had your eyes on?” 

Vileplume giggled and shushed her. “Hey, now! Don’t go letting that spread around this early! I can’t bring out opals until the spring. It’ll seem cheap if people knew I bought them while they were cheap. You know I’m thinking about opening up another place? At the rate we’re growing, I’ll be able to buy it up by the time I’m able to wear that bracelet!” 

The table turned out to be a desk, and the desk was locked up tighter than a jail cell. There was some sort of ledger and a few other documents on top, but otherwise the thing was pretty much airtight. Vileplume produced a key from between two of her petals and began to fumble with one of the lower drawers. 

“If this city doesn’t implode on itself before the winter’s over, that is,” Roserade said. 

“Mhm. That’s what I’m paying you for, honey. Insurance.” 

The shrill jingling of coins filled the air. Right on cue, Linoone unstrapped his bag and opened a compartment deeper inside with his teeth. Vallion finally saw the workings of the strange backpack up close. There were cushions of wool and fabric to dampen the sound of the money inside, and several hoops to jump through just to reach where the coins were kept in the first place. A complicated system all just to seem less conspicuous. 

Vileplume nodded and shut the drawer with her foot. “There we are. Should be good for a while. These days, you never know when the kingdom’s gonna turn inside-out.” 

“I’ll be in town tomorrow. Wanna go out for a drink?” Roserade continued as they collectively started back to the surface. 

Vallion more or less tuned the conversation out, perhaps in an attempt to listen for the coins that Linoone had stashed away, to see if he could. His mind wandered instead, wondering how it was that Shurdurr was extorting these businesses in the first place. What did they offer the Crustle again? Protection? Protection from what? From the gangsters themselves? From independent crime that might otherwise target the shop? From these riots that apparently had massive repercussions? 

His internal questions went unanswered, and he was forced back out into the snow once more. The neighborhood sprawled on for a few more roads. Pleasant patches of green were intermittent between walls of red and brown brick and the ever-present white. The air was terribly cold as always, but it smelled of pine rather of pestilence. 

“I have an extra stop before the final place. Other than that, we're almost done,” Roserade spoke over her shoulder. “Oh shut up, Linoone. I see that look on your ugly mug. It'll only be a few minutes.” 

“It ain't the time that you're wasting. It's what we spent it on in the first place,” he responded with a frown. 

Then came a barren hill amid the sea of stone. The grass that had once covered it was totally buried beneath a pristine frosting of snow, with scraggly black skeletons of bushes as the only signs of life. The rises of a wide flight of stairs were all that was visible of a path around the side of the hill. Roserade seemed to know the way by heart, and led them to a vantage on the other side. There, a monolithic grey building stood in solitude, a much easier and more well-walked passage up the hill at its base. 

“Wait out here,” Roserade commanded them, then gestured towards Linoone. “Bag.” 

“Yeah, yeah! Put a sock in it, ya walking weed!” After some fiddling, Linoone undid the straps and punted their stow of coins at the grass type with a flick of his head. She lifted one of the straps with the bend of her elbow, gave him a quick scoff, and entered through the heavy doors alone. 

The sound of their slithering and footsteps had ceased, allowing a bitter silence to fall upon Linoone and Vallion. The Serperior fought off the emptiness with the noise in his head, staring up at the temple in wonder. The architecture clearly wasn’t designed by anyone responsible for any other part of the city he had seen. Its styling was jagged but symmetrical, and purely designed in vanity. He could the arched ceiling of the church through open slits nearer to the roof. There wasn’t even any glass to keep the cold out. 

“What’s this for?” Vallion finally broke the silence. 

Linoone grunted. “Eh? It’s for nobody, you garden hose! Roserade’s dropping off good money to the church for no reason! Freak just fuckin’ lets her do it. Waste of time and effort, if you ask me. Not like these buffoons can’t scam their way to riches on their own!” 

“I mean, to whom is this temple dedicated to? I can’t tell from here.” 

“Huh? Oh, you ain’t even from around here. I forgot.” Linoone shook the ice from his fur. “They call it ‘The Hollow’ or whatever. Well, they call it a lot of things, the bunch of fuckin’ looneys. I think it’s name is supposed to be Kee-you-ree or something like that. Folks like that are all dumbshits far as I’m concerned. In case you couldn’t tell, I don’t give a damn about worshipping anything that ain’t made of gold.” 

“Clearly,” Vallion said, glancing back at the temple. “It seems you don’t much care for a lot of things.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? What, don’t tell me a guy like you’s kneeling down to some shitty altar back home, talkin’ to some imaginary friend in the sky?” 

The Serperior exhaled. “Not an hour ago, you were afraid of me because you heard I had taken a room full of your gang on my own. You do realize what you’re saying? How I might respond if I were the zealous type?” 

Linoone immediately started stammering. “Uh- I- Y-y-you know I’m just joking about all that, right? Like come on, who’s gonna take me seriously, eh? We’re pals, right?! Partners in crime?! I ain’t got nothing against religion or anything like that! I got something against that whore Roserade! I-it’s all just a misunderstanding between you and me!” 

“I’m only kidding,” Vallion cut him off, if only to get him to shut up. “My god is not the kind you worship. Point is, I don’t really care what you think. I just think it’s funny how much you speak and how little you say.” 

“I…” Linoone started to mutter to himself. “Son of a bitch, I am surrounded by a bunch of loons.” 

Humming, Vallion lowered his head down to the Linoone’s level and lowered his voice proportionally. “Make no mistake. Amusing as it is, it is also a liability. To Alexander’s directive and to me. I expect you will stay in line, unless you’d like me to make the same proposition to you that I made to that Crustle. I’m not about to play nice with anyone in this city.” 

Linoone finally shut up after that. It was very peaceful, at least for the brief time before Roserade left the temple and tossed the bag back. They wordlessly began the journey to the third and final stop in their quest for extortion. 

Interestingly enough, this would take them even further into northern Paradise, along the side of a cliff that overlooked the center of the city. From here, Vallion could see that lake he passed by on his first night here. The surface was well and frozen by now, though the edges still appeared a bit discolored from the varied thickness of the ice. 

“So…” Linoone eventually got around to saying. “What’s up with this route, Roserade? We ain’t ever had to go this deep for a place before. Don’t you think we’re gettin’ a little too close to some...places we ain’t welcome?” 

“I was told this was a new addition. I’m not about to disobey orders straight from his beak, though I’ll complain all I want,” Roserade said. “So what if we’ve got some strong-arming to do? I’ve only seen this new guy’s bark so far. If he’s got any bite, this is the opportunity for it to shine. And it better shine bright.” 

“Okay, I’m pretty flighty when it comes to this shit,” Linoone continued. “But you do realize the territory we’re about to walk into? With a bag half-full of money? Lookin’ for even more trouble? Shut the fuck up about being a coward, I know when something feels off, and this shit’s more crooked than the snake at the foot of the throne.” 

The grass type rolled her eyes. “I’m going to throw you off this fucking ledge. Just finish this job and let me leave already. It’s one stop of the countless others we’ve done. It’s not gonna go wrong.” 

The quality of the surrounding suburbs faded back into their natural, cramped state, seemingly draining into what was supposed to be their final stop. The funnel of wealth had a tall wrought-iron fence around its perimeter, beyond which was a rather sizable estate--that is, compared to the rest of the surrounding area. Having space for a garden at all was surely a sign of great import around here. According to Roserade, this was supposed to belong to someone who owed quite a bit. 

“I don’t wanna sound like a broken fucking record,” Linoone started to say. “But-” 

“Then don’t,” Vallion interjected. Roserade shot him a smirk, then continued circling the border trying to find the front entrance. 

The gate was wide open when they found it. A cobblestone path egged them forward, practically inviting them straight in. It was hard to admit, but Linoone was definitely right to feel uneasy. Still, what other option was there than to bite down on the bait? This could still be an optimistic outcome. Maybe this pokemon was expecting them and opened up to get this deal out of the way as soon as possible? 

...The further they traveled into the estate, the less he believed that. 

It wasn’t quite a mansion or anything. A cabin, maybe, but it was a damn good one at that. Two floors, presumably a cellar beneath, with a great deal of room to breath. A wooden porch with the same slanted roof that every building had, and a door clearly built with a quadruped owner in mind. More horizontal than vertical, Roserade walked up to the entrance, gave it a courtesy knock with her foot, then pressed on the handle. Even that was unlocked. 

Linoone made a nervous grumble as they entered. The atmosphere inside was just as cold as it was out, bringing Vallion little comfort other than the lack of wind. It seemed to be vacant at the moment, as well. Spacious as it may be on the inside, nobody came to the door that they so brazenly barged through. The place was still too cold for the small pits on his nose to pick up any outstanding heat signatures. 

“Hey!” Roserade shouted out loud. “Beartic! You know why we’re here! Hurry this up!” 

Surprisingly, a shuffling answered. A Beartic did indeed come around the corner from the top of the staircase, slowly shuffling down on all fours, their beady eyes not friendly in the least. They were in no hurry to answer the gangsters, nevertheless. Once at the base of the stairs, they stood on their hind legs and leaned upon the bottom pole of the banister. 

“Shardurr,” Beartic spoke with a slow drawl. “You were dumb enough to come, after all. I can tell it was stupidity and not bravery that drew you here. A brave pokemon would have a completely different angle than the one you’re looking at me from now.” 

Roserade tilted her head. “The fuck are you on about, Beartic? Whatever. My boss tells me you happen to owe our little group for some smuggling gigs we did for you in the past. Judging from your place, I’m certain you’ve got some gold laying around that could help settle that debt. Why don’t we speed this along?” 

“Ohoho. No, no. My debts to Shardurr are insignificant at best. Any fool off the street with an appetite for pay could have done what you people have done. But you came here, waltzed straight into The Family’s territory, and tried to collect on that? It’s stupidity.” 

The already cold air seemed to become absolutely frigid. Linoone practically froze in place, but even the stoic Roserade was taken aback. 

“This is the-” she tried to say, but lost her breath. “I didn’t get the wrong place? No, Freak definitely meant to send me here. He meant to collect from you. Why would he lead me straight into The Family?” 

“A suicide mission?” Beartic suggested. Just then, more shuffling came from the nearby rooms. Heat signatures Vallion hadn’t noticed appeared from behind chilled wooden walls and stepped out into the open door frames. A Graveler and a Granbull surrounded them as the ice type continued. “They’re not wrong. I do owe Shardurr. I just intended on never paying it, and if anyone ever tried to see to it, well…” 

“I told you! You fucking shrub, I told you I had a bad feeling! You didn’t listen!” Linoone’s frantic breathing caused his shouts to waver. “I- I’m outta here. I can’t afford to be here. You keep me around to run away, eh? Then dammit I’m gonna do exactly that!” 

Linoone didn’t exactly make it far. As he swerved around and made a mad dash to the door, a Lairon had already stomped into frame and blocked the exit. He tried to make the jump, and it was an admirable try indeed, but there just wasn’t enough room. The Lairon reared up and smacked the Linoone back into the entryway with a reverberating thud. 

“How?! How is there a trap?!” Roserade started to yell now, but her voice still sounded quiet. “You shouldn’t have known we were coming! There’s no way you could have known!” 

With a chuckle, Beartic waggled a claw. “You’d be surprised. I’ve known since this morning. It was very easy information to come across, handed to me on a silver platter by some fool who spoke too loud as he walked past. It’s a wonder how you morons have the pride to compare yourselves to us.” 

Cracking his neck, Vallion flexed the rigidity and cold out of his muscles. The weather certainly didn’t leave him in top condition, but you should never expect optimal conditions anyway. This was dangerous work through and through. At the end of the day, this job was always going to take a lot of doing. 

“I would vastly prefer to just leave and not have to deal with any of you,” the Serperior said in monotone. “It’s cold. It’s miserable. It’s a waste of my precious energy to do this. Can’t we just settle on a draw and make our separate ways.” 

Shuddering, Linoone coughed. “We’re dead, bright-eyes. Toast. Done. Cleaned. We’re utterly fucked. Cut the act already.” 

It seemed to amuse Beartic, at least. The ice type got back down on all fours and raised a brow. “You won’t go down with dignity, will you? You dregs are all the same. Loud and flimsy. Granbull, make an example of him.” 

The immediate difference between Shardurr and this supposed group called “The Family” was like night and day. This Granbull didn’t want to lord their strength over Vallion or anything so petty. They took him for a real threat, wisely slowing their approach to wait for an opening rather than making one of themselves. The two of them sized each other up for several long seconds before either of them made a move. 

Granbull, under pressure from their orders, charged first. It was an experimental movement, meant to probe for any weaknesses or elicit a reckless reaction. Vallion gave them nothing, rearing his upper back above his head and preparing to strike. His vines took both a high and a low position, reinforcing his defensive stance. He could practically feel his eyelids draw back in the reflexive glare he shot at them. 

“Look, newbie,” Roserade hyperventilated as she spoke over Linoone’s broken muttering. “If you’ve got any fight in you at all, you better fucking bring it out. Otherwise we’re really dead.” 

The Serperior bore his fangs. “Relax. It’s like you said. Nothing’s gone wrong yet.” 

It could wait no longer. The Granbull charged again, this time with real intent behind their legs. In such a small space, there was little time to react, making it even more difficult for his attacker to dodge the vine that wrapped around their forearm. He forced them forward, carrying their momentum straight past him and into the adjacent wall, twisting that same arm back as he followed through and slammed into them for good measure. 

In the chaos, Roserade dashed away and launched a volley of petals from her blossoms, embedding themselves in the Graveler’s shielding arms. Roaring in pain and rage, the rock type still chose to free their associate than pursue their attacker, forcing Vallion to release his grip and fall back. Meanwhile, Linoone tried to scramble to his feet and edge past the Lairon once more to little success. This time, the Lairon stepped in to press their advantage. 

The problem was that the Serperior had turned his back on Beartic. Creaky as the house was, the ambush came loud and clear, but he still could do little to prevent it. Vallion swiveled around and took the brunt of a frost-covered claw to his mid-side. The force sent him back into the wall and knocked the air straight out of him. 

Another volley of rose petals became impossible for the Graveler to ignore. The thug rolled backwards to smash the floor where their attacker once stood, but Roserade wasn’t a complete pushover. She danced to the side and took off into an adjacent room now that the way was clear. A pincushion of steeled flower parts, the rock type had no choice but to lumber in after her. 

It was still two against one in the entryway. Vallion contended with the Beartic’s hail of bites and blows while he slipped away from the Granbull’s grip, who attempted to wrestle him into submission for his boss to start wailing on. That made it much easier to flip around and shield himself from one of the strikes with the Granbull, whose hold obviously weakened when a pair of icy talons raked across their back. He coiled and pushed off the wall, knocking them into one another and launching through their stumbling legs towards the banister. 

Upon earning the high ground, Vallion launched a few jabs with his vines into the Beartic’s center of mass, but they were too densely built for it to matter. He fell back onto the stairs when the banister was smashed apart below him. Beartic gave chase through a shower of debris, inhaling through a gaping maw as an ominous mist boiled at the back of their throat. A howl of icy particles and sub-zero winds crashed into the Serperior like a shower of knives. 

In spite of the blinding gale and the pain, Vallion sent a vine straight into the eye of the storm, stabbing straight into the back of the ice type’s throat and retracting before their jaw could slam shut. They rightfully recoiled, claws clutching at their neck. A single whimper poured through their clouded fangs as they fell into a fit of pained gags. 

The Granbull lept straight over their master’s crumpled form. Vallion narrowly avoided being bitten in two by their crushing tusks and retreated further up the stairwell, nearly to the top. The fairy’s next attack came in a predictable manner, allowing the Serperior to slam them away with his tail and follow through with the rest of his body. He wrapped around the henchman and squeezed, positioning himself so that there was no chance those jaws could come even close to his body. The chokehold would take care of the Granbull within half a minute. 

In the meantime, still resisting the struggling pokemon in his grasp, Vallion struck at the reeling Beartic while the chance was there. A strike to the face, two more to the sides of the neck, and one to the joint of the shoulder managed to convince the ice type to fall back. A vine at their hind leg tripped them at the same moment, causing them to tumble down several steps backwards and slam their head into the tiling at the bottom, cracking both the stone and their skull. Two down. 

Linoone continued to shout at the top of his lungs for help as the Lairon made a very genuine effort to stomp on him. They were so focused that they didn’t realize Vallion had finished off two of the attackers and was on the approach. Their steel armor was mostly impregnable, naturally, but there were plenty of joints to exploit between the plates and underneath. Caught unaware, they didn’t have time to defend themselves when a pair of vines slipped into the pits of their legs and flipped them onto their side. Several solid strikes underneath their chin did the rest of the work. 

“Help! I don’t wanna die yet! I got so much to live for!” Linoone screamed as the toppled steel type nearly came down on him. He continued to zig and zag around the entryway, dodging imaginary feet. 

“Do you always make this much noise?” Vallion asked, still catching his breath. 

“Aaah! I’ll give you all the money! Everything I’ve ever made! Just don’t- H-huh? What happened to-?” 

One last crash came from the adjacent room, followed by a very audible sigh. What was once a rather homely den was completely destroyed beyond repair. The furniture was reduced to piles of nondescript rubble, wooden shards and cotton puffs and fabric scraps. The air was murky with dust and pollen. A thoroughly beaten Roserade stood triumphant over the Graveler. The rock type had a fresh crack across their head, and was riddled with petals and vines. 

Roserade’s eyes practically bulged out of her, but it still took her quite a long time to turn towards the Serperior in the doorway. 

“The others-!” she managed to gasp. “Where are-” 

“Down for the count,” Vallion immediately answered, idly brushing a layer of frost from his scales. “Not dead, mind you. I’m not into that business. Seems you did a number on that Graveler as well. Maybe we should slip him the address of that Crustle. They’re gonna need to eat a lot of minerals to heal that wound.” 

“Did you really..?” Roserade tried to say, but ran out of breath again. 

“He did it!” Linoone pranced around the Serperior and into the destroyed room. “He really did it! We ain’t six feet under! Oh, bright-eyes, if I wasn’t a married mon I’d kiss ya! And if you wasn’t a snake that could swallow me whole if I got too close! I never thought I’d see the light of day again!” 

A look of disbelief on her face, Roserade limped up to Vallion with a raised brow, then pressed past into the entryway to gawk at his handiwork. The labored breathing of every pokemon in that house filled the following silence. 

“...How the fuck? You- You really beat all three of them, didn’t you? And you’ve barely got scratched from it, ‘cept for that gash on your side. That’s not fucking normal. You’re insane…” 

The distant flapping of a pair of wings. Vallion raised his head and listened as the sound suddenly came into existence. It came closer with each beat. Another ambush, perhaps? Maybe it was just someone flying overhead? He readied his vines and poised to strike nevertheless. His reflexes were rewarded as a blur of motion shot through the open front door, snapping up the avian before it could strike at anyone’s eyes. 

The Swellow squawked in surprise, then started to cough from having been jerked out of flight so suddenly. 

“Holy hell!” Linoone exclaimed, jumping back another two feet. “What in the-? Did you just catch a flying type out of thin air? Oh sh- Bright-eyes, let him go for crying out loud! That’s our fucking boss!” 

Sure enough, the Swellow didn’t try to struggle or slash at him, yet they did shoot him the nastiest of looks they could muster. It was difficult to tell in the strained light, but the flying type’s plumage was discolored compared to the norm of the species. The deep blues of their flight feathers were instead an iridescent green, and the naturally crimson face and chest down came up brighter and more orange. 

After a few moments, Vallion finally released his grip. The Swellow struggled to pick up its flight where it left off, flapping rather clumsily over to the remains of the banister and landing with a thud. Some upset preening later, they clicked their beak. 

“Fine,” they said. “I came in suddenly. I underestimated your reaction speed. We have not yet met before. So, I’m giving you this one time. After today, you will never touch me like that again, or there will be very real consequences.” 

Roserade pushed right up past Vallion and raised her bud towards the Swellow. “You’ve got a lot of nerve sending us to die in this place, Freak! Just what did you expect to happen?! If not for this new guy, we would’ve been red paste in the snow by now!” 

Freak disinterestedly continued to preen, shooting the grass type a sideways glance. “Perhaps in a separate timeline that is true, but you are in this one. Beartic does owe us a debt, and we are still taking it, with interest. You and Linoone better start sifting through this place for pocket change. I want to speak with Serperior outside, alone.” 

“Is this any way to treat me?! After everything I’ve done for you people?! There’s gonna be a target on our heads now! What’s this fateless job worth to you, anyway?!” 

The Swellow chirped. “You want to hurry. One of these buffoons is bound to wake up before long.” 

“Y-yes sir! We’ll get looking!” Linoone gave Roserade an encouraging nudge and took off in the opposite direction. Aside from a nasty glare, Roserade eventually relented and limped past up the stairs, carefully stepping around the two unconscious pokemon that lay there. Luckily, they hardly stirred at all. 

Vallion wasn’t pleased to be back out in the snow. It additionally wasn’t particularly pleasant to have to wade out into a fresh sheet of the stuff while Freak landed on the branch of a nearby tree and shook more of it onto his head. The Serperior brushed the snow from his nose and grumbled. 

“I’m guessing this wasn’t an accident?” he said. 

Freak ruffled his feathers. “Chenza told me about what you did the other day. You can thank her for this little change in the route. Seems she had the right mind to put you through another trial. If I had to guess, I’d say that you passed with flying colors, but if you’ve already met her then you’d know better than to make guesses at her motivations. I just stopped by to confirm your cooperation.” 

“The Family, was it? Is that the name of the rival gang whose toes we just stepped on? They were warned ahead of time on purpose, I’m sure.” 

The Swellow narrowed his eyes at the distance. “‘Rival’ is a strong word. But yes. Roserade was right in the severity of this play. It appears that our hidden little superior’s intentions were to stir up some trouble with you specifically as the pawn. We can’t do much else other than trust her instincts. She always has schemes in play, and the best thing we can do is play our parts.” 

“Schemes, huh?” Vallion scoffed. “I’ve never been a fan of shadowy plans at my own expense, personally, but there hasn’t been a situation I couldn’t handle yet. I suppose I’ll play along for now.” 

“Yes. You will. After the position you’ve forced yourself into, you will soon realize that there wasn’t a choice to make in the first place.” 

With that, the Swellow crouched and launched into the air, catching a breeze after a few moments. As swiftly as he made his entrance, Freak rocketed into the wind at impressive speeds and disappeared into the labyrinth of brick without a sound, leaving Vallion with four unconscious foes to watch and a house to loot. 

You know, this situation wouldn’t even be half as bad if it wasn’t so fucking cold.


	9. Omens

Panne didn’t need any omens to know that it was going to be a bad day. Waking up in the laps of luxury to a full breakfast and a roaring fire wasn’t enough to appease this sense of dread that had been building in her gut all morning. And if something like that didn’t help, standing out near a marble statue of Reinhardt and waiting in the glacial winds wasn’t fucking improving anything. 

It wasn’t Nibby that finally tipped the scales and cemented this shitty reality. Oh no, the Noibat didn’t even have a chance to show up before that happened. Trouble reared its ugly head in the form of something that was supposed to inspire a feeling of security. A patrolling guardsman--specifically a knight of all things--singled her out amidst the city square. 

The Kommo-o was the least conspicuous pokemon for the next square mile. After a brief staredown, they lumbered towards her on all fours, each stomp eliciting a cacophonic reaction from their metal plating. The trappings and cape they wore proudly shouted out the colors of Paradise, as well as this individual’s profound position in its hierarchy. These pokemon always looked like they were in a bad mood, but just in the way they moved she could tell this was going to end poorly. 

The first thing the dragon did was grunt at her, their narrow eyes sizing her up like she was their next meal. 

“I know you,” 

She grunted right back. “Yeah? Join the club, buddy. I tend to get around.” 

“No.” They leaned in not a foot away from her face and sniffed at the air. Their eyes were predatory slits. “I know you from the palace. You’re the girl that disrespected His Majesty in the middle of his court nights ago. I was there when it happened. I regret doing nothing about it.” 

Panne scoffed. “Oh. That? I was wondering when that little stunt would come back to bite me in the ass. For the record, I don’t particularly care for that fool or his authority in the slightest, and you don’t scare me much either.” 

Kommo-o stood on their hind legs and postured, eclipsing her in their shadow. They huffed through their nostrils. “Do you know what they call His Majesty in my circle? The Aegis of Paradise. The mighty protector of his people. Stubborn is he, to extend his endless kindness even to an insolent cur such as yourself.” 

The Delphox rolled her wrist to speed them along. “Uh huh. Sure, dude. I’ll remember that the next time I make fun of him for those girly little arm drapes that he wears. Are you gonna try to pulverize me already or what? I don’t exactly have all day here.” 

A bitter, hateful silence went by. Then, another sigh of exasperation blew from their nose and caught on the wind. Panne just raised a brow and flipped her ears in response. 

“Were it up to me-” the Kommo-o finally started to say when she refused to shy away. “-I would have you punished. Severely, if you did not repent for your behavior. His Majesty and his kingdom demand respect. Even in lieu of his lenience with you, I would suggest you watch your mouth. Not all of us possess the same patience.” 

They waited another bated breath for good measure before finally breaking away and continuing on their patrol. The clanging metal scales and mighty steps of the dragon echoed through the square even as they turned a corner and disappeared. The wind couldn’t carry their stinking breath away fast enough. What an asshole. 

Next came the rapid fluttering of tiny wings. Nibby was barely a speck in the backdrop of a sea of clouds until he was right on top of her, landing on the edge of her staff with a small thud. The downy fluff around his neck and chest was spattered with caught snowflakes, which he viciously tried to shake off. 

“I reckon you’re not going to tell me why the knight captain of all people was giving you a hard time?” the Noibat eventually said. “The guy only has a glower on the best of days, but I ain’t seen him give it to anyone so hard before.” 

Panne rolled her eyes. “Those big ears don’t quite work as well as mine, huh? Whatever. It doesn’t matter what that was about, to you or to me. Now that you’re here, why don’t we get a move on already? I just want this over with so I can be someplace warm.” 

“Hmph. Whatever you say.” Nibby hopped around and faced past the staff’s edge, pointing with his nose. “Walkin’s different from flyin’, so let me see if I can get my bearings from here. We’ll be traveling down the length of that street there, turning left at the end.” 

It’s about time. The Delphox stretched her usable limbs in preparation, then willed the iron pole beneath her forward. That little interaction back there put some feeling back into her skull, alright. She’d been doing totally fine up to this point, but the slightest pangs of a headache were definitely on the horizon now. It better not get any worse than that. 

“Didn’t think you’d come,” Nibby said in the interim as he eyed the various pokemon they passed, most of which returning the gaze. 

“Really? Assumed I would just pussy out, did you?” 

He sniffed. “Not quite. Just didn’t think you’d bother relying on me for a lead. It settled in after a while--just who it was I had spoken to. The pokemon that you are. A walking myth--unbelievable to anyone who didn’t live through what you solved. I could hardly believe what I’d walked into, myself. Follow the signs after this left.” 

Panne did as she was told. “Good. Then you’ll take me seriously. Where the hell are we going, by the way? You never actually mentioned where we would be getting this lead, just that you knew where to get one. It wouldn’t happen to be a museum of Weavile heritage and history, would it?” 

“If only it were that simple,” he said. ‘No. I just know where we might find the start of your trail. Take this next right here and keep going all the way. It’ll be pretty crowded, but don’t mind it none.” 

“What do you even get out of this?” she asked, to no response. 

It was pretty damn crowded, to be sure. Despite how cramped it was, she was lucky to be moving with the flow of the road. A Golurk and a Hippowdon trudged on through in the opposite direction. Behind her, a wagon was pulled by an impatient Mudsdale. Skittering groups of Rattata and Raticate tried their best not to get stepped on. The shadow of a Fearow passed over her head. Shouting, selling, chatter. And it wasn’t even midday yet. 

“Keep on going!” Nibby assured her above the chaos. Must’ve been easy for him to say, perched so smugly on the tip of the weight that she carried. If only she could reliably levitate higher than the heads of this crowd. Without bonking everyone on the noggin, that is. This was probably one of the last places she’d ever want to get into a fight. 

The street did eventually open up slightly, thank god. Enough pokemon poured out into arterial passages that Panne could finally start to breath again. Without having to guide herself through a sea of bodies, she managed to look up and see the city’s heart as it was truly presented--with arches of latticed steel and hanging pots of winter flowers and dormant vines. Like a Masquerain’s dazzling display, Paradise’s overbearing design loomed over her, casting the Delphox in its shade. The checkpoint of guards she went through hardly compared to the sight.. 

Even with an open sky above her head, the space she entered gave the impression of a packed building. Enclosed within short barrier walls and railing were queues that made Panne dismount her staff and hobble on with her good leg, with Nibby coming to a rest on her shoulder as a result. It had all the claustrophobic feeling of a train station but without the train. Wait, what was this place, actually? Was Magnagate not the name of a company or something? What were these schedules on the wall for? 

Nibby hummed in her ear. “Looks like we’ve made it with some time to spare. Hope you don’t mind the wait. Our place is on the other side of town, and since you ain’t exactly a skilled flyer, this is the easiest way.” 

“What way? What are you talking about? All I can see is a big empty lot with pokemon stuffed into it.” 

And it was a peculiar lot, at that. A handful of officials marked by special patches herded the crowd off to the side, mainly shoving them into a space populated by benches and signs. Carved into the smooth ground behind them and spanning across the length of the lot were several layered circles of lines and runes. Though it would’ve probably fallen into Jirachi’s field of research, Panne vaguely recognized that these wards might have something to do with leylines. The sets of inscribed stone tablets laid out at the foot of the circles were about where her knowledge fell short. 

An announcement rang out. A Noivern bearing that official patch went on to list out a series of keywords and times to a system she didn’t particularly get. The last thing they shouted about was an arrival in the next couple of minutes, from a district Panne recognized as being miles away from this one. She would have interrogated Nibby more, but a flash of light from one of the circles stole her attention. 

The engravings glowed a deep red, with some sets of lights even lifting off the ground to spin in various directions mid-air. The lights stopped, shifted, turned, raised, and fell at will, working through and solving some sort of unknowable magical equation in real time. When that solution was eventually reached, the floating circles converged and crashed into the center in a brilliant eruption of spectacle and sensation. A vortex opened in the stone, and with it came a wave of all-too-familiar energy that washed over the Delphox and made her fur stand on end. 

“Shit!” Panne spat out, nearly tripping over herself after stepping back. “What the hell is that thing?! It felt like a mystery dungeon swelling around me! That’s not something I should be feeling inside a city at any point ever!” 

She could’ve sworn the Noibat chuckled to himself. “It’s a Magnagate. Exclusive to Paradise from my understanding, since we’re so close to the northern leyline pole and all. The first two Masters of Books happened to dedicate their lives to understanding these things. Now, we got ‘em down to such science that they’re public transportation.” 

Lo and behold, a steady queue of pokemon began to emerge from the fucking thing, popping out of the portal and shifting upright like gravity didn’t know what to do with them. The uniformed workers ushered them along the opposite end of the building and out the same way she came in. After a minute or so, the portal popped to a close and took the hair-raising static aura along with it. 

“We’re next, by the way,” Nibby said, then gestured with a wing towards one of the spell circles on the far end. “That one.” 

“You’re telling me I have to walk into one of those fucking things?!” 

He shrugged. “Sure. There’s probably thousands of pokemon that go through them day after day. I’m sure we probably won’t end up as a red paste on the other side. I ain’t gonna pretend to know how they work, but all I’m sayin’ is that they work.” 

When their turn finally came, the electric air flooded back into her fingertips and teased at the ends of her ears. The Magnagate imploded into existence, a line already gathering near its base. A bit more herding was required to ensure everyone crossed over one at a time, but the process seemed disconcertingly quick, and it was time for Panne to take the plunge before she knew it. It felt especially uncomfortable to stand near, like a fire radiating heat but with that shifting energy instead. Nibby egged her on, and with even more pokemon waiting behind her, she mounted her staff and dove in. 

It was bright and sudden. The Delphox slipped out the other side, still tensed up like the world depended on it. A sickening bout of inertia came and went, and just like that a set of different workers were pulling her on to make room for the next arrival. There was hardly any time to even comprehend what had happened. God, Ampharos would’ve come out of that thing upside-down with how disorienting it was. 

Nevertheless, the sky above her head was a different one, with clouds thrown in all new places. This station had a different design, and was filled with different faces. The air itself tasted different, though that might’ve just been the chaotic radiation getting on her tongue. She sure as hell came out somewhere. 

“I’m surprised you hadn’t heard of ‘em before,” Nibby went on to say as they exited out into an unfamiliar part of the city. “You run a school, don’t you? Thought you’d be up to speed with these sorts of things.” 

Panne shook the residual dizziness from her head. “Guess nobody bothered to tell me about your stupid city’s magical morning commute portals.” 

It was colder on this side of town, which was immediately a big downside in itself, but at least it wasn’t as crowded. The Noibat continued to guide her out of the busier parts and into a pocket of hilly suburbs. Admittedly, she enjoyed the look of the place way more than anywhere else she’d seen in the city. A nice evergreen here and there, some actual yards for plants to grow, and plenty of space. Must be a rich neighborhood, she thought to herself. 

They eventually came to the largest hill around. Dotted with trees and wrapped in a blanket of permafrost, the only reasonable way up was a rather wide set of stone steps which was hastily cleared of snow at some point this morning. The fading trails of footfall of varying sizes told of a mild amount of traffic earlier today, but the freshest prints still came from a couple hours ago. 

There was a grey building at the summit. It wasn’t like anything else she’d seen yet from Paradise, set apart by a very particular kind of structure that seemed to defy the patterns of the city. It reminded her of several other places she’d seen in her long travels, mostly of ruins nestled between the corpses of forgotten civilizations. No doubt about it--this was a temple of some kind. 

“Hm. Here we are,” Nibby spoke from the perch of her staff. “Go on, then. Head in. Don’t worry about bargin’ in on anything, services only happen in the morning.” 

Panne pricked at her fingertips with her claws to ward off the numbness. “Yeah? That something you’re intimately familiar with?” 

“At one point in my life. Not so much anymore.” 

Ugh, why did all the doors in this stupid part of the world weigh a hundred pounds? It was worse than Meowstic’s house by this point. Panne managed to nudge the entrance open with an enthusiastic push of telekinesis and ducked in before the damn thing could close on her. She didn’t find any of the comfort that she had hoped for upon entering the shelter. In fact, it was as cold in here as it was out there. 

Turns out that was by fucking design. Several long, narrow slits in the walls gave the chilly place light to see by. The holes also weren’t windowed up at all, allowing snowfall to come through and build up in the corners of the temple. The structure of the pews was circular, built almost kind of like an amphitheatre. That was a typical northern design, at least. The pulpit at the center was surrounded by a moat of two spiral staircases that descended down into the earth. 

Apparently she lied, too. There was exactly one window in the whole temple. A massive stained-glass one, situated above the far end of the building within a domed section of ceiling apart from the roof. Pictured within was a highly-detailed depiction of what appeared to be some sort of draconic monster shrouded in ice. There must have been hundreds of individual pieces that made up the fearsome image, projecting a rainbow of cold colors down onto the pulpit. 

She frowned at the artwork. “Yeesh. It feels like it’s staring right at me.” 

“Well that’s because it is,” Nibby said. 

“Oh ha ha. You’re a real clown, aren’t you?” She hitched her staff into a diagonal position and locked her elbow around it, shooing the Noibat away in the process. “So where’s this supposed lead you were going to get me? This place couldn’t look more deserted. Might as well have cobwebs hanging off the railing.” 

_CRASH_

The Delphox launched halfway to the ceiling, a yelp caught in her throat. The shrill crash happened so close to her back that she could’ve sworn she felt the wind of the impact. Clutching to her staff with every available limb, she twisted around mid-air and tried to figure out what happened. That whole goddamn stained-glass window had fallen out of its fixture and nearly landed directly on her head. 

Yet, shattered as it may be, the pieces started to pick themselves up again. A near-invisible shadow collected the bits and began to rearrange the scattered pile. None of the glass had actually broken in the fall, but rather separated from their leadings. Accompanied by a harmony of clinking pieces, the window picked its own damn self off the ground, with several free-floating clusters connected by translucent threads extending off of the whole like the legs of the beast in the image. 

“I like to think that I keep my place of worship rather tidy. Heh-heh-heh.” The animate art fixture sounded contrastingly soft-spoken and feminine. The kind of voice you hear when you’re being lured into a false sense of security. Fuck that. 

Panne stopped hugging her staff, but she most certainly didn’t come down. “...A Runerigus. Wonderful. Fucking fantastic. You could’ve made that entrance a little cleaner, you know! You’re lucky I didn’t reflexively blast you apart! I’ve done it with other ghosts before! Mismagius learned that lesson a long time ago!” 

Nibby landed on the back of one of the pews and folded his wings. “What’s the matter, Panne? You don’t seem too keen on the supernatural.” 

She grumbled, eventually letting herself fall to a more reasonable altitude. “I’ve had a few too many bad fucking experiences, okay? You’d dynamite a room too if you’ve faced the kinds of ghosts I have.” 

“Would it help to say that I was a Munna in a past life?” The Runerigus giggled, the floating pieces of glass behind them shimmering beneath the newly-opened skylight. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I just can’t help myself sometimes. The opportunity is always so irresistible. What brings you to The Church of the Hollow, my children?” 

Nibby cleared his throat, the slight echo of the building catching the sound a little too well. “Just a bit of digging, priestess. Thought a community leader such as yourself might be able to help us single out a few certain pokemon here in the city. Nothing major, just some ancestry we’re tryin’ to track.” 

A crystalline wave flowed through the Runerigus as they turned to face Nibby. No matter how gentle their voice, those draconic eyes never seemed any less malicious. “Noibat, my dear. I recognize you now. It’s been quite a while since you last visited my temple. There’s a hole that was never quite filled after you left. Has your heart mended since that accident?” 

“Answers, lady!” Panne snapped back. “We’re gonna freeze to death here if we gotta spend all day chatting it up. Not everyone’s made of glass and ectoplasm.” 

That piercing gaze pivoted towards the Delphox, but the rest of them didn’t. “I’ve heard of the occupation you’ve taken up, Noibat. I will be honest with you because I know you. Understand that I may be...hesitant to speed any of my disciples off to prison.” 

But Panne already had her finger to the pulse. Like she was drawing a blade from a sheath, the Delphox withdrew the writ of permission and held it aloft in front of the jingling ghost, her tail whipping behind her. 

“Firstly, this stupid piece of paper says nobody cares. Second, we’re not sending anyone off to prison, certainly not any of your followers. All we need to know is if any Sneasel or Weavile attend your church, and how we might be able to contact them. It really is an ancestry thing we’re tracking down.” 

“Oh my. What do we have here?” The priestess leaned in like they were reading the letter, but without any actual pupil movements it didn’t seem particularly convincing. “...Well, if you insist, I could perhaps point you in a few directions. There are a few that I’ve come to know over the years. Though I can’t imagine the reason why you would need this information.” 

Holy hell, finally. This was exactly dealing with those damn nobles back at Lively City. The walking art installation dropped a few addresses that Panne took note of, but ultimately didn’t have any frame of reference for. Nibby just nodded away as he absorbed the whole thing, looking perhaps even more eager to leave than she did. Turns out there were quite a few Weavile that liked to worship ice dragons. None from around Shardurr’s territory in West District, but more than she thought. 

With that out of the way, Panne was glad to call Nibby back over perch on her staff and leave this freaky Runerigus in peace. Of course, nothing could be so easy around here. Just as she was about to push that comically heavy door open, that melodic tone came calling after her. 

“Pardon me, Delphox, but it is so rare to see one of your kin in this part of the world that I’m afraid I’m a tad curious. Your species is one that is able to use a certain type of clairvoyance, is it not?” 

Panne made sure to roll her eyes before she actually turned around. “Yeah, some Delphox can do that. Mostly only in groups, though, and I was never good at it to begin with. Best I can do is see immediate danger in the flickering of my fire, and only just barely, too. It’s easier to just look around than to focus on which direction a candle’s freaking out in.” 

An intrigued hum joined the jingling of glass shards. “How very interesting. A future told in the licks of a fire rather than in ice. I have always wondered how the two compared. Even so, Delphox, I can’t help but feel drawn to you in some way. Perhaps Kyurem has a particular fate picked out for you, hm?” 

“Psh. Yeah, no. I can assure you that my fate’s been filled up from the day I was born until the day I bite the dust. Your god’s got nothing on what I’ve been put through.” 

“Now, now, Panne. The Hollow’s reach may not be infinite, but He knew that your path would surely bring you here. This I am sure.” 

“I-” she stuttered. “I didn’t tell you my name. I didn’t even tell you I had one. You’ve recognized me this whole time?” 

Panne could’ve sworn that the corners of the image’s mouth curled into the slightest of smiles. “There is a chamber below this temple dedicated to recreating His vision. If you wish to, we could travel there and pray--see if Kyurem might impart some of his knowledge unto you. I have a strong feeling that He would.” 

“Priestess, what are you doing?” Nibby butt in, swiveling his head towards the Delphox. “Panne, listen to me. The future ain’t somethin’ you wanna play around with. I know, I’ve been there. Some things you’re better off not knowing.” 

Now the immediate prospect of going into any dark hallway with any sort of spectral anything was awful. Doubly so with the fanatical bits added in. The Delphox crossed her arms, furrowed her brow, and bent back her ears all in the same second, glaring at the sparkling priestess. It sounded like a terrible goddamn idea. That’s partly why she was pouting. It was such a bad idea that her curiosity had already won, and the Runerigus already knew that. 

“Say, can this Kyurem fella predict possible great disasters, if one were theoretically going to happen sometime soon?” Panne asked. 

Runerigus let out another seductive chuckle. “Oh, my dear. If only you knew the story behind such a question. Come. Let us make our descent.” 

“...Just what the hell is Master Alexander having you research?” Nibby asked out loud. “Fine. Go ahead. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Panne angled her staff to force the Noibat to take off again, then left him for the twin stairwell in the center of the temple. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to listen to your advice anyway.” 

At the bottom of the circular stairway where the two sets connected ran a lightless corridor. The temperature was somehow worse off down here, enough that even Panne started to shiver. She compensated with a needlessly large flame to help light her way, but the darkness was suspiciously thick down here, almost like a fog. The Runerigus paid her little mind and ambled onwards, their various floating parts reflecting a kaleidoscope of shapes onto the ornate carvings in the walls. 

The deeper they went, the more Panne’s stomach turned. It didn’t quite feel like danger, but there was something undoubtedly heavy in the air. The priestess’ body echoed so well in this space that it sounded like they were surrounding her. A white mist started to pour out into the bottom third of the hall, which felt like it was sprawling on for far too long. And it was colder than a fucking arctic blizzard. 

The Runerigus’ voice overcame the tenuous silence. “We have arrived into His sanctum. After you, Panne.” 

Abruptly ending, the corridor transitioned from stone to frost, a chamber made entirely of ice and darkness opening up just beyond. The bright flame in her hands should’ve easily reflected off the far end of the room, yet she saw nothing but black. 

Needless to say, Panne didn’t exactly take the offer to continue forward right away. “So, um. How does this thing work, exactly? ‘Cuz I’ve decided that I very much don’t want to go in there.” 

Runerigus tilted their face to the side. “It’s always intimidating at first. The vastness of the ice is overwhelming, but have faith. There is nothing about Kyurem’s grace to be afraid of. It is only a vision, after all. Or, perhaps you won’t see anything, and this pause will be for nothing.” 

“Uh huh. You’re not making this sound any more appealing.” Panne rapped her fingers over her arms, tapped her good foot against the ground--generally doing everything she could to put off going into that icy hole. Of course, having already come all the way down here, there wasn’t much not reason to. “Okay, fine! Whatever! Just, tell me what I gotta do while in there. And it better be worth my time! I’m a valuable person, my precious minutes are actually worth something.” 

“Of course,” the phantom dryly agreed. “Simply extinguish your flame, wander forward, and observe. Do not worry about having to perform any sort of ritual. You will know if Kyurem wishes to impart His wisdom unto you. Trust me. It’s not a subtle thing.” 

The Delphox, in spite of her own instincts, dismounted and limped on forward. The frost immediately burned at her foot as she entered, but the ground wasn’t all too slippery like it seemed it would be. In the inky black, she used her staff to feel around before proceeding, finding only flat ground laid out before her. The acoustics no longer suggested that there was a gaping corridor behind her at all, yet she would’ve definitely heard if something had closed. This fucking sucks. This was a terrible idea. Why the hell would she- 

A tiny, translucent wisp of green drifted past her head. Then another, this one more blue than green. More little lights manifested from seemingly nowhere, bringing the slightest modicum of sight back from the brink of blindness. 

She was surrounded by an enclosed pocket of flawless ice, perfect to the point that she could see her own reflection. And the reflection of her reflection, and the reflection of that reflection from the other side, and so on. Looking more carefully, she could see that the ice was transparent, and there was yet another pane of it beyond this one doing the exact same thing, and probably more beyond that one. Transparent mirrors, huh? Cute. 

The cold was nearly unbearable, but she had stopped shivering at some point. Perhaps it was out of wonder. Or maybe it wasn’t actually cold, and this was some sort of illusion. Either way, her eyes were drawn deeper than the reflections, and she found herself peering into the empty space between it all. Like the murky abyss just below the surface of the ocean. An infinite blur of nothingness. Just what the fuck was this place? 

Her eyes refocused on the reflections when something changed. She couldn’t name what, but there were differences in each mirrored iteration. Maybe it was the positions of the wisps? Distortions in the shape of the ice? Why was it so dead silent in here, anyway? She could scarcely hear herself breathe. It felt as though she were stuck in some frozen air bubble somewhere beneath a mile of glacier. 

And back to that rolling plane of emptiness. A shifting of currents, the turbulence of a massive sea. Her vision began to cross the longer she stared, forgetting to blink from a mystifying trance. The ice reminded her of a prism for some reason, which made her worry what exactly was passing through it and being transformed. 

Panne thought she saw a rooftop of snow in the distance. Sensory deprivation, she told herself, but she still edged closer to the wall to get a better look. No, something definitely looked like one of those shingled roofs you see everywhere around Paradise. In fact, it looked like a whole field of ‘em, from a bird’s eye view. Logic and reason seemed to leave her at that point. Any sort of detailed analysis felt impossible to grasp in the wake of the vision’s stupor. 

Paradise was laid out before her. She could see the miniscule specks of pokemon walking its streets, obscured by a lack of detail. It was by their erratic and quick movements that she assumed that most were either fighting or fleeing. The panic settled behind her heart. The rage clenched in her fists. She heard crashing in her ears, shouting in the distance. 

It was clear up until that point, but the ice almost appeared to expand though seemingly lacking a central point. The cleanest emotions that gathered in her body were muddled with confusion. The city passed between day and night and day again as time became indecipherable. Despite the muddied sensations, an aura of intensity washed over her, so much so that she dared not move an inch for the fear that she was actually standing at the edge of a cliff. This was some sort of premonition of something terrible. But what? Was this Alexander’s calamity? 

The moment went on and on, never bursting open like it so fervently promised. A city resting on a bed of pins, with the slightest movements threatening to throw its balance off. And did it ever move, churning back and forth like a ship on a stormy sea, churning like the way her innards did flips. Friction. Heat. The sun had set, but she could still feel a warmth. But what about the ice? 

An explosion of flames. The mirrors went yellow from the sight as the line of reality became too difficult to keep track of. She needed to do something, but the thought had escaped her like the fading vestiges of a dream awoken. It was so urgent. So, so urgent. She couldn’t wait here for a second longer. Panne’s eyes went wide, and she took off towards the spreading inferno. 

And smashed her nose into the wall of ice. 

The Delphox fell backwards, her staff slipping away and clattering to the hard floor. Her eyes immediately began to water from the pain as she clutched at her snout. Profanities poured from her mouth until she realized that whatever was happening had suddenly stopped. Gasping, she wiped the tears away and gawked at the darkness that enveloped her. 

She heard an intrigued hum from behind her. Runerigus glowed slightly in the dark, but only just enough that you could see them. “Are you satisfied with this gift of fate that The Hollow has bestowed unto you?” 

Without saying anything, Panne scrambled to find her staff in the black and lifted into the air. She sucked in a breath, shook her head, and exhaled before she took off past the ghost type. Only halfway down that impossibly long corridor did she actually illuminate her path, the abrasive flash more than enough to burn into her eyes. The only thing worse was the actual ascent to the surface. Even with just that skylight and the slits in the walls, it was annoyingly bright. 

Nibby had perched on the railing of the pulpit. He hopped around upon her exit, just in time to see the Runerigus emerge out from behind her, a decidedly satisfied stride in her floating. 

“Well?” the Noibat said. “You’re the one that’s always in a rush. So did you get what you needed out of that? I reckon you didn’t, with that hungover look in your eyes.” 

“The gift of fate is oftentimes disorienting, even to us oracles,” Runerigus answered for her, not that she was going to answer herself. “Let it settle. Get some rest. The truth will come whether you seek it or not.” 

Another sigh left Panne’s lips. She shook the feeling from her skull and beckoned for Nibby to hurry along. 

“What the fuck ever. I’ve definitely had enough of this place for one lifetime. Let’s get to the bottom of this Weavile thing already before I puke my brains out.”


	10. Digging In

The Sneasel’s grimace deepened in the strained light. 

“Well I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that! An’ if I did, I wouldn’t be tellin’ you ‘bout it, anyways! If ya really wanna know so bad, ask the archive or summin’, instead of buggin’ me on a weekend!” 

The door slammed shut in Panne’s face. She let the reverberating sound wash over her, a groan withheld in her throat. When the moment had dragged on long enough, she let the breath finally leave through her nostrils in a puff of steam. 

“I did check the fucking archive,” the Delphox mumbled. 

The Noibat on her shoulder glanced off into the distance with a dismissive whistle. Though the alley was claustrophobic enough, what little of the sky that did peek around the ridges of grooved roofs was quickly starting to blend in with the shadows. 

“This ain’t workin’ out,” Nibby muttered into her ear. “Maybe we ought to pack it up and go home.” 

Panne threw her head back and hissed at the air. “Of course it’s not working out. Everyone that stupid walking window suggested are basically fucking kids. They weren’t even around for when their kind had tribes in this area! Where are the parents of these little shits?” 

“Apparently not around here. Look, there’s no need to drag this out for longer than we have to. If the trail’s a dud, then it’s a dud.” 

“Not yet it isn’t.” Gripping her staff with a little too much exasperated vigor, Panne exited out back into the brickwork labyrinth of Redland District. The place wasn’t much different from anywhere else in Paradise. Surprisingly vertical, perhaps, but Noe Port likely was built on more impressive cliffs than this. This region was also supposed to be the westernmost hand of The Family’s influence, but at worst Panne felt maybe just uncomfortable. 

Nibby’s talons gripped at her fur a little tighter. “It’s only one more possible stop, Panne. After all the faces we’ve already checked with, I highly doubt this one will be any different. Don’t waste time striking a cold iron.” 

“What’s with you?” Panne shot back. “You realize I’ve long since ran out of patience today, right? Are you trying to guide me away from something?” 

The Noibat shrugged in her peripheral vision. “Well, yes. I’m guiding us away from overstaying our welcome, if that’s what you’re wondering. I liked your initial deal, sure, but no good can come of snooping where we don’t need to.” 

“Then go home if you’re such a pansy. Personally, I’m gonna keep snooping, because that’s basically half my entire fucking profession. The other half happens to be blowing things up, so I don’t know what you’d be so worried about unless you were part of the things I had to blow up.” 

Relenting with a sigh, Nibby doled out the last bit of directions she needed to find their Weavile. 

The route took them out onto the Main Street, of course. The road was characteristically massive, and was tightly wound into pretty much every part of the northwestern districts. You could fit three or four lanes of wagons and carts on the damn thing. Perfect for the harvest, where this side of the city was likely jam-packed. Not so perfect now, when she was one of the three or four poor saps walking out in the middle of the empty road at dusk. 

Likewise, there were many side roads around these parts that would eventually leave the city altogether and trail into the countryside. Most of them ended in dirt paving rather than rock. Luckily, she didn’t have to head down one to be turned away for the upteenth time. It was just a handful of blocks this time. Getting back to the palace was going to be a pain in the ass, though. 

“You sure about this?” Nibby spoke up again. 

“Seriously? Look, I don’t know what your deal is right now, but every time you ask me that I only want to go through with it more. Like half an hour ago I would’ve totally given up at this point, but you’ve gone and forced my hand now.” 

With that annoyed fire burning in her heart, Panne made her way into a dilapidated section of weather-worn buildings and thrice-repainted walls that were already defaced once more. This was the kind of atmosphere she had originally expected from an area like this. It had an air of cruelty and selfishness, like the faction which supposedly ran it. The final address was rightfully in the center of it all. A run-down manor that looked like it had once belonged to a wealthy farmer at some point. 

She didn’t even hesitate to give the door a sturdy knock. The wait sprawled on for a moment, but that moment became two, then three. She tapped her claws on the metal pole beneath her, glaring at the door as if doing so would intimidate it into letting her in. A full minute of relative silence went by before there was even movement on the other side. She heard Nibby audibly gulp. 

A Heatmor answered. They stuck their long head through a crack in the door, their expression apparently nonplussed. “Yes? What is it?” 

It seemed that gulp was Nibby swallowing his reservations. “Yeah, we’ve got a few questions to ask the Weavile living here. It shouldn’t take long at all, it’s just some historical work is all. They wouldn’t happen to be here, would they?” 

The fire type blinked. “No. They aren’t.” 

They motioned to shut the door. The Delphox moved swiftly, sticking the end of her staff into the closing crack with a clunk. Crawling forward on her perch, she peered through the narrow space. “I’ve decided to stop taking that answer, actually. That Weavile is definitely here. In fact, I’ve got a little slip of paper that says he probably ought to see us.” 

Panne drew the writ of permission, as she always did. The wonderful little sheet of paper had the entire kingdom’s backing inside a simple wax stamp. Presenting it to the Heatmor, they reached out and took the paper into their claws, stared at it for a few seconds, then ripped the thing in half. A few licks from their flaming tongue later, it was ashes blowing away in the wind. 

“You brought me trash,” they said. “Go away.” 

The Delphox’s ears flew back. “That’s not even a big deal, you know! I’ll just go back and get him to write me another one! Doesn’t change the fact that I don’t need it to work my way in there! Where’s the Weavile, huh? I bet he knows all sorts of crap about old tribes and markings! Why don’t you bring them out already?!” 

“Do you really wanna-?” The Heatmor was cut off abruptly. A voice carried over from seemingly the other side of the manor. 

“Let them in,” they had said, a slight echo punctuating their words. “Heatmor. Give it a rest.” 

Some grumbling and a bit of hesitation later, the fire type eventually did open the doors for them. Panne let herself in with a huff. The manor wasn’t as trashy on the inside as it was out, but it wasn’t too exactly batting it out of the park either. There was only one path forward illuminated by the light of a distant room. The Heatmor didn’t stop her from heading that way, so she assumed it was intentional. 

The dining room wasn’t large. A single moderately-sized candelabra reasonably lit the entire area. The oval dining table it sat on was already laid out with a feast’s worth of food, ranging all the way from spiced soups to eloquent bread rolls to...something shredded that Panne thought smelled good, which was a bad sign. 

“Shit,” muttered Nibby in her ear. 

Across the table sat a Weavile, who was in the process of licking his fingers clean from a pastry he was in the process of finishing off. His features were clearly worn from age and stress, a grey tint to parts of his fur. Without a word, the ice type ushered them over to the seats over from him, then took the last bite with a satisfied hum. That fire Nibby lit under her was doused with a splash of icy-cold water as she psychically pulled a chair out and sat down. 

“Care for a bite to eat?” said the Weavile, grinning from ear to ear as they took a caramel-colored drink from a whiskey glass. 

“I think I’ll pass. Had a big lunch,” Panne lied. “I promise this won’t take long. Just a couple questions about heritage. Sorry for the entrance, it’s been a long day.” 

He laughed. “I know. An associate of mine told me you were coming. You already gave them your little interrogation routine. Whatever it’s about, I’ve been told it ain’t trouble, so I figured ‘why not? I’ll see it.’” 

“Associate?” she repeated with a frown. “Well, whatever. This’ll be quick. I’m thankful I’m finally talking to someone who might actually know what I’m trying to say, at least. You wouldn’t happen to be able to tell me about the tribe you came from before Paradise swallowed up everything, would you?” 

“Ah. What an interesting question.” The Weavile took another sip and let the air hang in silence. “We were called the Kral, a long time ago. Our tribe ruled the steppes of the east once. In the summers we would reside in the mountains for two seasons, then descend upon the plains as the weather pushed back more dangerous foes. Now those territories are nothing but squared districts and quarries. I do not miss those times.” 

“And your family?” Nibby asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I was among the first of my tribe to leave for the growing city in the west. I felt stifled by the politics of my people. As far as I’m aware, they might have been a part of the dozens that tried to push back against Paradise’s expansion. I’m sure you’re aware of how well that would’ve turned out for them.” 

Panne rapped her claws together, ears pressed back. “So you’ve already lost contact with everyone, huh?” 

Another bite of that delicious-smelling something allowed to Weavile to wring another few seconds out of the conversation. “Yes. Unfortunately, you’ll only have me to deal with. It’s a good thing I have such a keen sense of memory.” 

Nibby’s turn. “Then you should be able to tell us all about the written language your tribe used to determine the boundaries of that territory, right?” 

“Mm. Well, perhaps.” He clapped his talons together. “Many tribes had different ways of saying the same thing. This language barrier tends to keep members of those tribes with their own, so to speak. It makes sense why so many were opposed to His Highness’ rule. That being, much of the Weavile groups below the eastern peaks had many similarities in their carvings. What did you need to know?” 

Panne pushed the excess of dishes out of the way and made room on the rough wooden table. There, she gestured for the Weavile to watch as she made that three-point S in the space with an index finger. “You’re familiar with the Shardurr gang’s tag, aren’t you? I figured you were, considering the part of town I’m sitting in. Let’s get to the point. Would that symbol represent anything in a Weavile’s tribal language?” 

Their host’s brow furrowed. A silence fell that was so thick that the creaks and groans of the old manor filled the foreground. That Heatmor from earlier who was certainly just around the corner made no movements, either, though they definitely heard. She didn’t get it. What was so fucking tense about that question? Was the peace in this city really being held together with tape and strings? 

Finally, the Weavile exhaled, clicking his tongue and finishing off his glass. “You know, that’s a fair thing to wonder. Bold as you are to have brought it here, especially considering recent events.” 

“What? Which recent events?” the Noibat said. 

“Ah. You seem to be the street-wary sort, so I’ll keep it short. That group’s a hot topic around these parts. Shardurr’s done something to slight us not too long ago, and if you’d pardon my manners, seeing that shape drawn into my table does get my blood boiling. But that’s neither here nor now.” 

The Weavile walked two claws across the wooden surface, then jammed the tips down like he was gouging out a pair of eyes. “Yes, that is a good question, and my answer is no. It is not a symbol I recognize from those times, and no tribe would identify itself with such a simple shape. If it does mean something to some Weavile, it does not mean anything to me.” 

In spite of the oppressive atmosphere, and the closed lead, Panne couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. “Sweet Xerneas, thank you! I’ve been waiting for a proper response like that all afternoon. Half the pokemon we tried hardly even gave us the time of day. Though half of them were born in the city, so I wasn’t going to get anything out of them anyway.” 

“Of course. Of course.” His smile was full of fangs, and felt about as welcoming. 

There was a slight tug at the fur of Panne’s neck. Nibby’s voice filled her left ear. “Yes, thank you for your cooperation with our little project. We’re sorry to have interrupted your meal. Well, we should leave you to it and get going before the magnagates are closed.” 

But before Panne could so much as push her chair back, the Weavile flattened his palms to the table and widened that horrible grin of his. 

“Aw, so soon? What a shame. We were just getting to the part I wanted to hear.” 

The Delphox settled back down into her seat and leaned forward on her elbows. “And what part would that be?” 

“Nothing so serious. I’m merely curious as to why someone would go around asking such a strange question. Comparing Shardurr’s signature to the way a Weavile marks their turf? It’s certainly a thought that seems to have come straight out of the blue. One wouldn’t go so far out of their way looking for answers for a daydream, hm?” 

In spite of Nibby’s rigid grip on her shoulder, Panne threw her head back and scoffed. “Let’s not skirt around this like a bunch of spineless noblemen. You’re expecting some information in return just because you humored my stupid hunch. Well I can already tell you that you’ve dispelled any evidence I would’ve had, so don’t go expecting gold at the end of the rainbow. It’s back to square one for me.” 

The Weavile had pushed his plate away entirely and mirrored her forward lean. “What’s your deal, Delphox? Your little friend looks like he’s about to be sick, but you couldn’t seem to care less. Why are you here?” 

“‘Cuz I got hired to be, that’s why. A certain creepy snake wrapped around the foot of the throne called me in from Lively City to look into some things for him. One of those things involves the Shardurr gang to the south of here. I’m sure you of all pokemon would love any juicy details I could give on them, but unfortunately, you’re the start of the trail.” 

“Hah. The palace hired an investigator from abroad? How disgraceful.” The air seemed to soften considerably as the gangster reached over to pour himself yet another glass of alcohol. “Bold of you to come to The Family with such a simple question. Perhaps we should keep in touch. I’m sure the Good King wishes to be rid of that despicable group of children as much as we do.” 

Panne flashed him a smile and mounted her staff in the same motion. “Yeah, perhaps we should. Right now I’m going to go keep in touch with a warm fucking bath, so I’ll be off.” 

This time around, nobody made any subtle threats to stop her. She rode out through the doorway, past the leaning figure of the Heatmor against the wall, and pushed back out into the unforgiving bite of winter without any distractions. It truly was just as simple as getting up and leaving. 

They made it about half a block away from the manor before Nibby finally let go of the breath he’d been holding in his throat. “Dammit! Panne, you’re a fateless lunatic, you know that? That could’ve been one of the most influential arms of the whole gang for all we know, and you’re talkin’ to them like a disgruntled barkeep! Why’d I even agree to come with you this far?” 

“Because I’m smooth and I’m deliberate and I probably could’ve taken everyone there?” she replied with a misty huff. “Poor old bastard. He’d probably break a nail. It’s just easier for me to walk out peacefully than blast my way out and have to explain it to Alexander. It’s a shame that the tribal marking thing didn’t go anywhere. I felt so clever about it, too.” 

“You’re a real piece of work.” The Noibat groaned, jumping to the edge of her staff to stare off into the far distance, where a Chandelure adorned with a ribbon of the kingdom’s colors went from lantern to lantern to illuminate the streets. 

“So?” Panne pulled back on her staff, stopping just before Main Street. “You sound like you’re getting some cold feet. Why don’t you ask yourself why you were so adamant to join up with me in the first place? Don’t forget you’re the one that insisted to. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things on my end.” 

“Yeah, so that you can prove that some invisible Weavile’s at the top of Shardurr. That’s a big damn deal if I’ve ever heard it, and I happen to believe you on that. We’re just lucky that fat cat didn’t. Look, I have my own wars to fight with these types of people. You’re going down a path I’d want to go down, just...not by walking straight into their houses and asking for a light.” 

The Delphox raised her voice. “Are you still in or not? I’m not finished with this. All tonight proved is that Shardurr doesn’t have a history, and that still plays into what I already know. Are we going deeper or am I?” 

Nibby lifted off from the metal pole and faced her at eye level. “I’ll try to get some digging done, but I’m not going to promise anything. You come back to me if you figure something else out. That still the deal?” 

“Fine.” Panne waved the Noibat off. “I’m heading back to the palace. I don’t need your directions on the return trip, I memorized the way. I know you’re more comfortable just flying over everything anyway.” 

  


_____

Nothing was left of the light of day. Nibby's nocturnal eyes caught only the angular silhouettes of buildings just a few blocks away, even with the benefit of twinkling streetlamps radiating their dull yellow auras. He flit through the snowfall and over the somber town, wings beating at the same rapid pace as his heart. A swift dive around a corner to catch a brief gust. Up and over a plane of shingles. Then, by the guiding lights of distant lanterns, he flew towards the tallest structure in sight: a belltower looming ominously over the surrounding rooftops. With a bit of effort, the Noibat climbed the last stretch of altitude to perch upon the angled peak, his talons sliding as they dug into a sheet of ice. 

He glared out over Redland District with no particular place for his eyes to rest, the bitter winds gnawing at the tips of his ears. A minute or so passed. The feathered beat of wings broke through the serenity of the vantage point, then came the clatter of another pair of talons gripping at the roof. Nibby shot the newcomer a sideways glance just to make sure, but even up here he could see the vague iridescence of the Swellow's flight feathers. 

"What a surprise," Swellow went on to say. "I had almost forgotten about you. What's all this about then, Noibat? Why do I hear you've been looking to contact me? Looking for work on our side of the street after all?" 

"I would never willingly work for you low-down thugs, no matter the paycheck." Nibby would've spit, but the cold had dried his mouth out. "I still hold to that. The only reason you're here is so that I can clear somethin' up before your kind go pointing fingers." 

"And what would that be?" 

"The fact that I've been snoopin' around The Family's streets doesn't mean nothing to you. I got a...a client, we'll call her, who's been draggin' me down that hole. I'm sure priestess Runerigus has spilled all those beans already, what with all those donations you funnel into her. I'm just here to make sure you don't send goons after me for bein' in places I'm not welcome." 

Swellow clacked his beak. "Yes. I have heard, actually. The oracle is still very interested in that Delphox client of yours. Strangely, she refused to tell me anything about her. I don't really care, anyway. The interesting part is what she was looking for. Weavile and Sneasel, huh?" 

Nibby glared down at the pavement and gulped. He turned his head towards the avian. "Look. That dame's got me wrapped up in this mess. Tell it to me straight. What the hell is she goin' on about with this Weavile at the head of Shardurr? Is it true? I mean she had a signed, handwritten seal of permission and everything. Straight from the damn Master of Law, even." 

"I know," Swellow said with a flick of their neck to the east. "But seeing as you've done your best to avoid us for years, I'm not entirely sure you deserve an answer. What I can tell you is that Runerigus would most certainly not be able to point her in the correct direction." 

"And you know what?" Nibby started again. "While I'm at it, what the hell did you guys do? We almost got lynched down there tonight! The hive was buzzing over whatever it was Shardurr did to piss them off! Just mentioning the name brought knives to our throats! I’d have been slit in a second if they knew the kinds of mud you’ve dragged me through for your guys! What are you trying to do, start up a war?" 

The Swellow let out a long chuckle, the sound bleeding out into the night sky and tapering into empty noise. "You know, I'm actually glad you've tried so hard to break into my schedule tonight. I wouldn't have been able to hear that piece of good news otherwise." 

"What are you going on about?" 

"Don't sell yourself short, Noibat. You've already guessed what I’m going on about. In fact, you might find a few extra documents of hard dirt on your desk in the coming days. Getting a few of theirs off the streets would really start to rile them up, and soften their ranks. You're not too out of practice, are you? I know it's been a few months." 

"Woah woah woah!" Nibby gave a vigorous flap, lifting off the perch and twisting around as he came back down again. "You're going to force me to help you start a fight with The Family? What are you, insane?! Do you have any idea the kind of damage that would cause? It's winter for fate's sake! You're gonna destroy this city with ideas like that!" 

"Yes. That’s the idea." 

Their gazes met less than a meter apart. There was Swellow's ruthless sideways glare, like Nibby wasn't worth a carnivore's forward attention but deserved as much disdain as a single eye could muster. The Noibat meant what he said, but there was no authority behind his words. No reason for this monster to care. This was the common knowledge between them. Talk was cheap, but resistance would cost more than he was willing to pay. 

"Your answers are coming," Swellow continued. "Don't look so glum. There is a bright future ahead for all of us. Even you can have a piece, granted you do your part in getting there. I know you will. You know personally what happens when someone crosses us." 

Crouching down, Swellow extended his impressive wingspan to the breeze and dove straight from the vista. One beat pulled him out of the dive, another drove him forward, and within the matter of a moment he disappeared into the sea of darkness just above the rooftops, leaving nothing but dread in his wake.


	11. Building Up

Ahh. Wonderful heat. 

Vallion couldn’t care less about the world around him. All that mattered was the crackling flames, each wayward lap of the fire blowing another pulse of warmth his way. His eyes were shut tight to protect them from the heat, and though the bright yellow still leaked through his eyelids, the inn that surrounded him might as well not exist. It didn’t help that he kept drifting off back to sleep, managing to catch himself just before he fell over most times. 

Not every part of his perception was dulled by the flame, unfortunately. The pits on his snout detected a distinct lack of warmth to his right. The pokemon made no sound and gave no presence, but they were definitely there. What a shame. The Serperior shuffled to the left to surrender some of the fire he’d curled in front of. 

“Ooh. Fancy yourself a gentleman, huh?” 

He knew that voice. Sinister and mocking. Vallion opened his eye to the Weavile who had squat down beside him, basking in the same heat with a coy grin on her face. 

“This place is a dump,” Chenza said, facing the hearth. “Food’s overpriced. You can tell they get their shipments legally. Decor’s drab and boring. Spirits are low as all hell. What’s a pokemon like you even doing staying in a place like this?” 

“What are you doing here?” he said. 

“You know. Just hanging out. Decided to check up on my second least favorite Serperior. I heard you did an excellent job at making Beartic pay interest. I suppose it would’ve stirred them up more if I had Brute slaughter the whole house, but letting grudges fester gets it done just as well.” 

“Did you come all this way just to say that?” 

Chenza shrugged. “Partly, yes, but then I couldn’t help but notice how awful of a place you’ve been staying at. I mean come on--you’re a Serperior! Where’s your self-respect? Surely you can do better than this.” 

He shut his eyes once more and leaned closer to the hearth. “Why? It’s cheap. It’s inconspicuous. It works. I don’t have the money to go anywhere else, regardless.” 

“Of course you don’t. You’re following the rules. This is how the king wants us to live. Barely scraping by--getting short gasps of air only when he wants us to. How do you think The Family even stays afloat when their only business is smuggling food? The crown loves to wring us for all we’re worth when there’s always been more than enough for everyone.” 

“Do you have a point?” Vallion muttered. 

“My point is that you should follow me out the door after one minute passes. Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of what it looks like to live like a pokemon instead of a slave.” 

The Weavile made no noise as she got up and left. Like a leaf on the breeze, she slipped out into the murky light with the old door making little more than a squeak. Vallion briefly considered ignoring Chenza’s proposal entirely. He wasn’t quite done enjoying one of the scant moments where he wasn’t freezing. After a mental note of forty seconds, the Serperior shook his head to himself and began to stretch. At the mark of a minute, he slithered away from that wonderful spot and plunged into the morning. 

A dense fog had covered the city. One couldn’t see more than halfway down the block before all turned to rolling mist. This was what was considered a pleasantly warm day to the inhabitants of this northern frontier. Vallion’s scoff turned to steam as he started to scan up and down the street for the ice type. She was a mere shadow in the distance, but she was there, apparently waiting for him. He had to hurry down the sidewalk just to keep her in sight when she started moving again. 

It was difficult to keep up. He followed her down the vertical streets where few residents could be seen. Vallion quickly started to lose his place as she led him deeper into parts he didn’t recognize, a dilapidated labyrinth sprawling out just beyond the murk. His instincts attempted to pick out landmarks along the path, but there was little to find other than the same old cracks and dust. Perhaps this was by design. 

Down one alley, then another. The ghost of the Weavile seemed to string him into a part of town tucked away deep within a valley between three hills. Clusters of menacing gazes peered out at him from around corners and through cracked windows. A trio of poison types had gathered around a game of dice at the end of the avenue, their conversation getting heated. Chenza would come to a stop in front of a particularly run-down tavern. 

“Impressed?” she said. 

“Not really.” 

“Good. See, you do have standards!” 

Inside, Vallion immediately recognized that cheaply-built furniture from earlier. The bottom floor was covered in the stuff, and so was the landing and balcony of the second floor above. Filling the seats were the same rugged folk as always. A Zweilous barreled past the both of them to get through the door, a pair of growls as their only response. 

The Serperior slithered out of the way and scowled. “They really don’t know who you are, do they?” 

“Of course not. Not yet, anyway. That will change very soon.” She beckoned him along with a curl of her claws. “But that’s for later. You can’t stay in that garbage pile of an inn--not with the kind of work you’re going to be doing. I’m going to get you into a garbage mound instead. It’s better, trust me.” 

Further into the establishment, an argument rose above the pitch of the chatter. A Machoke slammed their fists down onto the countertop and nearly spilled their bowl. 

“You want how many coins for that?! Last week it was a third of that price! This is almost as bad as it would be if I went and got it out in town! You tryin’ to scam me outta my cash, punk? Is that what’s goin’ on here?” 

The Gallade behind the counter furrowed their brow. “No, you sniveling idiot. The deal with you-know-who fell through. We haven’t gotten a crate in since last week. You gonna eat that or did I just waste my time trying to sell to a moron?” 

“Of course I’m gonna! Just tell those stingy fucks to fork the goods over already or I’m gonna go get it myself!” 

Chenza continued towards the flight of stairs with Vallion in tow. She shot the passing exchange a satisfied grin and looked back towards the steps. “That’s a good sign. Nothing but good signs these days. Oh, I’m loving it.” 

“I thought you said you were supposed to take me somewhere that wasn’t a dump,” Vallion said as they ascended to the second floor. “This seems just as bad as the place I was at, if not worse from the noise.” 

She gave a shrug. “Well the food _was_ much cheaper. Now the big bad Mandibuzz is thinking to punish us by cutting off our supplies for that little stunt I had you pull. Nobody’s gonna know that we started it. They’ll be flinging shit at us for a while--gives me a great opportunity to start something with it. Anyways, shut up. I’m doing you a bigger favor than you realize.” 

It was more of the same upstairs, though a bit more cramped. The ruffians that inhabited this place were still in the process of waking up, yawning and rubbing at their eyes and barking only half-heartedly at one another. The Family’s recent embargo apparently extended to coffee beans, too. Chenza was right, the air of discontent was growing. These pokemon aren’t exactly earning the kind of coin that affords such luxuries. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. 

“Hey! Oi! Very funny, now do you wanna set that down? Come on!” 

That voice was familiar, too. Slightly sniveling, mostly nasal. Linoone had been beset by a small group of said tired-looking thugs. A Gloom and a Scrafty watched on and laughed as a Throh held down Linoone by his scruff and held aloft some bag by its strap with their other hand. 

“What, this?” the Throh mocked. “Ain’t you ever heard of sharing, Linoone? These’r tough times! Us folk gotta stick together if we wanna survive this season, right?” 

“Yeah yeah! Sharing’s caring! Ha!” the Scrafty added. 

Linoone struggled to wiggle out of the fighting type’s grasp. “Sure! I heard of it! But not this time, not right now! I gotta feed my kids--my family! You wanna the kinda guy to take a roll straight from a kid’s hands? Come on, let me go already!” 

Chenza stopped to chuckle at the spectacle, only to make an inquisitive hum when Vallion started to approach it. The Throh made the same noise, falling silent as they began to eye up the new arrival. A moment came and went before the Serperior finally extended a vine to sweep the bag away from the Throh and launched another to slap their hand away. Linoone shot out from beneath the both of them as soon as he was able, but didn’t go far. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do than prey on the weak?” Vallion said with a glare. 

Throh looked down at their wrist and slowly exhaled through their nose. Standing at full height, they weren’t too much shorter than Vallion’s raised nose, though it was clear that they were trying to close that distance as much as possible. 

“What’s with you, punk? What the fuck’s with that? You think you’re some hero or somethin’? Think that runt’s worth a damn to save? And savin’ him from what--me? I’m thinkin’ you just picked a fight you didn’t wanna pick.” 

The Scrafty shared that sentiment rather quickly. It was the Gloom that seemed to start to worry, a nervous fidgeting in their stance as they started to back away. 

"Uh. Hey, you don't know who that guy is, Throh? Maybe we should cool it down for once. Maybe we-" 

"Can it, shrubhead! Or you'll be my next salad." The Throh postured further and put a finger to the Serperior's chest. "Now listen. You ain't gonna get far in this town if you go actin' like that. I can teach ya what happens when you do, if ya want. I'll even let ya walk away with your bones intact if you're lucky." 

There were more eyes on them now. Some cheered for a fight. Some ignored the altercation completely, disinterested. This might not have even been the first fight today. Vallion hummed. "Actually, I have some experience as a teacher. But I wouldn't be teaching you. You'd be the example." 

Linoone started to stammer. "N-no need for that, Bright-eyes! They was just playin' around, see? Just a bit of fun between the guys! Right? Am I right?" 

But those words fell on ears already deaf with rage. Throh made the first move, because of course they did. They launched a blow meant for Vallion's throat in the hopes that they could impress their peers. The Serperior only had to move backwards with the blow, and in that position he easily dipped his head beneath the fighting type's arm and wrapped around. He squeezed with the side of his neck and twisted his body to pull the Throh forward, then released to let them fall. 

The Throh tumbled over themselves, the old floors creaking suspiciously from the impact. Laughter bloomed from the gruff audience that surrounded them. Vallion let them get back on their feet, perhaps hoping that the embarrassment would be enough to dissuade them. It wasn’t, and with a roar they came charging back in, because these types always did. 

Brute force was all the Serperior needed to reverse the charge and put that Throh face-down in the dust. Vallion redoubled his curl around the fighting type's body to make sure that they didn't have any tricks up their sleeves. Some triumphant applause came his way, though the battle was so one-sided and clean that it seemed most lost their interest. 

Vallion raised his voice. “It’s painfully obvious you’ve never stepped foot in a proper mystery dungeon. The wildlings there fight with their lives on the line, ready to tear you apart by any means necessary. Most of the pokemon I've fought in Paradise only fight for childish amusement or social power. It’s pitiful, really. You’ve never left these nurturing walls and you think you’re strong.” 

Then, and only then, did he motion to hand Linoone back his bag. "You shouldn't let these fools walk all over you. They shouldn't have been able to catch you to begin with. Try harder next time." 

"Y-yeah! Sure, sure! Whatever you say, I'm all for it! Just as long as nobody holds anything that you do against me personally!" Linoone grabbed the strap into his jaws, tossed his head to flip it over onto his back, and dashed down the stairs so quickly that he nearly flew instead. 

Throh stayed down when Vallion finally released them and slithered away. Their companions were nowhere to be seen, and their pride was left a coughing mess on this filthy floor. The Serperior went back to Chenza with a huff and gestured for her to continue on. She snickered and started past the rows of tables towards the southern end of the establishment. 

“Really?” she said in a hushed tone. “That slimy bastard absolutely wasn’t worth defending. You were just looking for a reason to lay that guy out, weren’t you?” 

“Shardurr is full of hot-headed and weak pokemon. They stick their chests out and posture for no real reason. I hope you intend on doing something about that.” 

“You might want to be careful there, Serperior. Assuming that everyone’s a small fry is gonna get you cut. I’ll see to that myself if you step out of line. Don’t forget my charities. And speaking of my charities.” 

At the edge of the tavern was a stairwell that seemed to almost be carved out of the wall, like someone had shoddily built a passage between floors to the adjacent building. There was a Turnonator loosely guarding it. They looked down at the Weavile, then back up to Vallion. 

“Who’s this?” 

“Someone a cut above their cloth,” Chenza answered as she stuck out an open claw. “Give him a spare. Any will do.” 

The Turtonator briefly scanned around before they reached into a pouch and threw a small key into the Weavile’s clutches. “Fine.” 

Chenza clicked her talons together and ushered Vallion down the rickety stairway. “I lied, actually. There are a few pokemon in Shardurr who do know who I am. Those who’ve been around for long enough to remember the beginning, or are impressive enough that they’ve met with me personally. I can do plenty from the background, like getting you this free room, for example.” 

The stairs lead deeper than Vallion expected--penetrating between the walls of the next building over and into the ground where the bare wooden scaffolding became reinforced stone. The underground network of tunnels had clearly been dug out by ground types long ago, judging from the wear on the walls and the refurbishing that attempted to disguise it. There was a larger lobby-like hub that had several off-shoots that snaked out beneath the city’s streets. Chenza took him down one such carven hallway. 

“This is hideously illegal,” she went on to say. “These tunnels, I mean. The oaf on the throne is very strict about space and property. Hideouts like these violate quite a few laws. I just think it’s funny that a cave simply existing is affront to the sanctity of the kingdom and is on par with murder. Not that we don’t do plenty of murder, too.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Of course you don’t. Here’s that room.” 

The key slipped into the lock with a bit of difficulty and clicked. The lantern in the hall provided just enough light to see within. Beyond the door was a room not much more impressive than the one he’d been staying in, with the bare minimum of necessities and even less decor. The ever-classic pile of cloth scraps encased within a wooden box made its reappearance for his bed. There was a table and a half-melted candle. The air was stuffy and made his nose itch. 

...But it _was_ much warmer down here. 

“This isn’t as much of a dump, huh?” he went on to say anyway, idly peering at the creases in between the wooden and earthen walls. 

“You’re here for free, you freeloading asshat. Unless you’d like to go back? I could always just keep this key to myself.” 

The Serperior shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. It will do just fine. I don’t need much else.” 

Chenza flipped the key between her fingers before she tossed it to him. After kicking the door shut behind her, she started towards the table in the darkness and picked up a matchbox to light the lone candle. “Great. It’ll be much easier to keep my eye on you from here. You don’t mind that, do you? You could be a fucking psycho as far as I know. This way I’ll know sooner rather than later.” 

“Why so transparent about it?” Vallion asked. 

She gave a shrug. “I dunno. Act unto others or whatever? You already know too much, what do I care to tiptoe around you? As long as you don’t fuck me over and you stay as useful as you’ve been, we’re not gonna have any problems.” 

That wasn’t quite good enough, he thought. Not for Alexander’s task. “There will not be any problems, though your lack of trust is concerning. I need to be able to make my own decisions without them being put into question. What ways can I go about earning that right?” 

She just kinda tilted her head at him. “Sheesh. What’s the hurry? Don’t wanna climb your way up like everybody else?” 

“No.” 

“Psh. Be that way, then. What’d that little runt call you? Bright-eyes? Well alright, Bright-eyes. You wanna prove that you’re playing with the big kids so badly? I got something you could do--something that’ll prove we’re on the same wavelength here. All you’ll need is a few magic words and to get a little creative. Assuming you are, you should be able to help me out.” 

It didn’t stay ‘warm’ forever. As the day progressed, the fog condensed in the frigid air and coated everything with a layer of glossy frost. It wasn’t snowing, but the omnipresent layer of clouds nevertheless kept the blue of the sky hidden from sight. It felt like it had already been months since Vallion had seen the sun. At this rate he’d be as yellow and jaundiced as Alexander. 

The Serperior knew this passage from before. He passed by that vantage point of the center of Paradise--the one with the frozen lake in clear view. On one of the far shores he could barely spot a handful of pokemon sliding around on the ice, skating in circles by themselves or playing a game of tag. Perhaps he should go visit Serene Village when this is all over. Floatzel would hate it, of course, but it was easy to reference his long vacations over in Atlantia to get him to hush up about it. 

It wasn’t long before Vallion passed Beartic’s manor and traveled further into the bottom half of Redland District. There was a great deal of commotion out on the streets today. Plenty of faces in the crowds, or swooping overhead, or looking down on it all from their balconies and windows. The marginally-improved weather must’ve convinced everyone to have a day out on the town. That or it was the fact that it was the start of the week. 

Thankfully, the packed roads started to thin out as he continued to follow the right signs and turn at the right detours. He was freed from the current entirely as he passed beneath a worn stone bridge and into a hilly park. Like any feature of nature around here, the bushes were nothing but naked twigs and the grass was all but a sheet of white, but it was a welcome breath of fresh air regardless. 

There was only a single soul in sight. At the center of a small grove of evergreens were two benches situated back-to-back on the side of the trail. A Hypno sat on the eastern one, half-reclined like they were about to fall asleep from boredom. Vallion curled up on the opposite bench without a word and made sure there was nobody else around. 

“Hello.” 

“...What? What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

Yes, very busy. “Just a moment of your time is all--if you can spare even that much. Thought you should know that the son flies at dawn.” 

Those words left a suspicious quiet in their wake. He heard the shuffling of the Hypno looking behind himself, then a scoff as he returned to vacantly stare into the snow. “Gee, Freak. Did you do something with your plumage, or were your feathers always that scaly? Where’s that fate forsaken Swellow gone off to? Who the fuck have they sent me today?” 

“Someone else,” the Serperior answered. “It doesn’t matter to you. I’ve just got back from the coronation.” 

“Oh son of a bitch, _she_ sent you? What are you, the cannon fodder?” The Hypno spat into the weeds. “Look, guy. You guys pulled some shit back at Beartic’s place. This deal we’ve had going isn’t going to fly without some serious apologies, you feel me? Why the fuck ain’t she sent someone who mattered? Freak oughtta be here to get this sorted out himself!” 

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t matter, considering I’m the one that took down Beartic and his goons.” 

“You-” Realization broke his breath. “You are a Serperior, ain’t you? Well fuck! You stay the hell away from me! If you so much as make a-” 

“I’m not here to fight you,” Vallion quickly interrupted. “This is about the negotiations over our shipments. More accurately, the one we are about to trample all over. Chenza told me you were in with us more than you were with The Family. She said to expect that a particular day was finally coming. I assume you know what that means?” 

A long sigh left the Hypno’s nostrils. “Shit. It means she’s finally gone off the deep end this time. Things really are going to start going insane around here, aren’t they? Explains why Freak’s not shown up. He’s probably been tying up loose ends before the main event. As much as I hate to miss a showdown like that, it looks like I’m gonna have to lie low for a while…” 

Vallion swiveled his head towards the psychic type. “Not yet you aren’t. You’re going to help us make this fire bigger.” 

“Fateless son of a…” Hypno grumbled to himself. “Well I hope you guys have a good idea of what you’re doing, because I’m not about to get my ass chewed out by going back with bad news. This is on you assholes.” 

“Then just work with me here. In fact, you only need to tell them that this arrangement is off completely. We’ll still be getting our shipment, though--so long as it’s sitting somewhere unguarded when night falls. All you’d have to do is tell me where, and we’ll put in the rest of the effort.” 

The Hypno paused. A strong gust jostled the branches of the trees and dumped clumps of snow onto the ground. He popped his lips. 

“This winter’s gonna suck for the losing side. Better start hoping that you’re standing with the right one. Kyurem knows I am. Bring a wagon to...let’s say the twenty-second business on the left side of Main Street from when you first turn onto it. That one’s a distributor for raw lumber, run by some Bibarel and his kids. They’ve been a midway point for a lot of deals for years. There’s gonna be something stored there overnight.” 

Vallion smiled. “Thank you very much. Anything else I’m meant to say in a meeting like this?” 

“Can’t believe she sent a new guy to do this,” Hypno said to the passing wind. “No, not really. Just make sure it’s clear I’m not the one that told you that. They’re gonna be out for blood and I’m the first one they’ll be sniffing out.” 

“Alright. Now go on and tell your people how Shardurr embarrassingly ruined this agreement for themselves, and how little remorse we feel over Beartic.” 

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Hypno groaned as he rose from his lazy recline and started to hobble away. They made it a few steps out before stopping and turning to look at the Serperior a final time. 

“Next time you see him, tell Freak I’m rootin’ for him. I can tell you don’t have any history with this city, but I’ve known the guy since we was kids. I know he’s been personally waiting for what’s coming.” 

A shimmering grey washed over the Hypno’s body. His features melted away into the hunched form of a pokemon crouched low to the ground. A tangled mass of black hair tinged with red obscured most of the creature, but their narrowed snout and squinted eyes were pointed right at Vallion. A grin crept over most of the Zoroark’s face. 

“Tell him I said that, would you? I bet you will. You gotta be the reliable sort. Otherwise she wouldn’ta sent you to start her war.” 

The night was particularly thick now that the fog had rolled back in. The spotlights of lanterns further down the road bled into the mists and soaked the surrounding area. This made the corners without light seem even more abyssal than usual. The rickety wheels of the cart were the only sound to bounce off the walls in the quiet howl that always seemed to encompass the city. There was no one around. No passersby, no guards. Just the four Shardurr and an empty street before them. 

The Krookodile that dragged the cart along was flanked by two more. Vallion slithered to the left, and an Abomasnow to the right. Atop the cart itself and sat upon the edge was Chenza, who looked on into the fog with an unswerving interest. She mouthed an ascending number as they went on. From two to eight. From ten to seventeen. As her lips formed twenty-two, the Krookodile turned off onto a side road. 

This building had an impressive amount of real estate attached to it. While the business front itself was nothing special, there was a fenced lot behind it that encompassed a quarter of the block. Every part of the refinement process could be seen, from freshly-cut logs with bark and lichen still attached, to particular shavings and slivers of timber, all the way down to bundles of planks ready to ship. 

The lock on the gate was nothing. It would have been easy to pick, but since they were here to make a lasting impression, it was smashed open instead. They strolled down the beaten path through the center of the yard and towards the shuttered warehouse at the tail end of the building. That wide door was unfortunately locked from the inside, however. Forcing it open took all three of them and made quite a bit of noise. 

There were just more orderly stacks of cedar planks inside. No guards from The Family, but no obvious reward, either. 

“Doesn’t seem like a trap,” Vallion muttered, squinting at the darkness. 

“Zoroark wouldn’t lead us into a trap if he could help it,” Chenza barked back. “No, it’s definitely here. I’m willing to bet what’s here was going to be our shipment if we paid them back and begged on our knees. Now that they know we ain’t, they were probably going to move it somewhere else before dawn. This is the perfect time.” 

“It better be,” the Krookodile groaned. “I ain’t dragged this piece of shit cart around for nothing.” 

They found nothing but product in this oversized shed. Interestingly, there was an entrance to a cellar conveniently located behind a barricade of pallet. They pushed the wood out of the way and made quick work of the third lock and chain in their path, but it was just too dark to see any further. The Abomasnow produced a match from a small box on the bottom of the cart, which was a truly pathetic amount of light, but it would have to do. 

Chenza traversed the steps first, followed shortly after by Vallion. This seemed like a small workshop of sorts, complete with a cluttered bench and many stuffed drawers of tools and mechanisms. There were a few crates down here, too. The first few they checked were just stored junk, but the largest of them seemed special. He could tell before they even opened it from the scents of spices on his forked tongue. 

The lid came off with a thud. The Serperior was immediately assaulted by the smell of coffee beans. Tightly-packed white bundles marked with paint completely filled the wooden container. At just a glance, there was everything from flour rations to dried fruits to sugar and tea. His eyes caught on something that seemed suspiciously carnivorous, but Chenza closed the lid and shot Vallion a wide grin. 

“This crate is worth more coins than you can carry, Bright-eyes. Do you think they’ll mind if we just help ourselves to it, hmm? I hope they do. Hey, you two boneheads! Get down here and help us carry this thing out! There’s a bonus in it for you!” 

The Krookodile and Abomasnow could barely fit down the passage. It got exceedingly cramped down in that cellar, making it difficult to actually move their haul up the stairs without tripping over themselves, especially with how much rations The Family managed to pack into that crate. With some difficulty, they managed to load it up onto the cart. Chenza had stayed behind in the cellar, where a shrill scraping sound was emanating. 

In the space where the crate once occupied, she carved out a very telling S symbol into the floor. Satisfied, she dusted her claws off and started towards the exit where Vallion peered in. “Hm? What, did you think I wasn’t going to do that? Come on. Wouldn’t you?” 

They got so close to making it out clean, getting halfway across the yard before a noise alerted them to another presence. Another door opened, and out came a Bibarel holding a candelabra and sporting a night cap. Their eyes adjusted to the night and locked onto the group of criminals. 

“Wha- Who are you?! What are you doing out there?! Hey, I’m talking to you! I’m going to call the guards!” 

Krookodile was about to make a break for it with their haul, but Chenza raised a claw to stop him. She dismounted the wagon and slowly started towards the owner. Vallion was nearly ready to spring into action to stop a murder, but the Weavile came short a few meters out. 

“Go ahead,” she said. “Call them. You’ll only give away the fact that you were storing all those illegal rations. Won’t that be fun for your business?” 

“You mean to-” the Bibarel stuttered. “Those are- Hey! Where are you going with that?! Do you have any idea what kind of pokemon you’re messing with?!” 

Chenza chuckled. “Oh yes, I do. In fact, I’d throw the same question back at you. We were just about to be on our way all peacefully until you showed up. Looking to pick a fight with Shardurr, are you?” 

“Sh- Sh- Sha-” 

“For the love of the Hollow just spit it out already. Or are you still half-asleep? Should’ve stayed in bed if you ask me.” 

With an upwards flick of her nose, Chenza twisted around and waved a dismissive hand at those surrounding the cart. “When The Family comes by to ask what happened to their stash, tell them the proper owners came by to pick it up. Make them remember the name of Chenza the Weavile. You’re lucky, Bibarel. You just became a messenger, and I only kill those half of the time.” 

The owner gave them no more trouble. Not a single breath left their mouth before they took the cart outside the gate and rounded the corner. The fog covered their exit, obscuring the mill completely in just half a minute of walking. Though they still had to make it back without a guard sticking their nose into their business, it felt as though victory was already in their grasp. After all, it wasn’t really about the prize. The shadow of Shardurr had finally revealed herself. And now, all they had to do was wait.


	12. Desperation

Archeops tapped the bend of his wing to his cheek, his image distorted in the glow of the blue sphere. 

“Yeah, that’s about all I came up with. No apocalyptic conditions to be seen, though you really should rotate your crops a little better next year, considering your population density. Such intense colonization has had interesting effects on the weather in that valley, too, but aside from that nasty blizzard you had several years ago, it’s nothing majorly threatening.” 

“So it is,” Alexander huffed, holding the gadget further from his face as he pointed those crimson eyes deep into space. Reinhardt took the Connection Orb from the Serperior’s vines and gave a wide smile into the receiving end. 

“We greatly appreciate your assistance, master Archeops. Rest assured that we will keep your precious research in mind moving forward.” 

Archeops nodded cheerily. “Feel free to write to Nexus about any sort of research you would like conducted. And I wouldn’t mind setting something up to have copies of your environmental logs. It’s very insightful the kind of impact your city has had.” 

A couple more formal words were spewed out in either direction before the gadget was finally passed back to Panne. The Delphox made a sour face into the orb. “Thanks again, Archeops. I know you’re probably having an extra two professor’s worth of work dumped onto your shoulders on top of that.” 

“Eh. It’s not so bad,” he shrugged. “Even Ampharos stepped in to help this time around. Now it only takes him two tries to find the building he’s supposed to be teaching in.” 

“Ha! He’s finally getting better, is he? It only took most of his damn life.” Panne shook her head. “Anyways, that about does it. Say hi to everyone for me. Still don’t know when I’m gonna be back, but I know I will never complain about the weather there again.” 

Click. The orb went dull in her hands, letting the natural grey light to take hold of the counsel chamber once more. She sighed and set her gadget onto the table, pushing aside the stack of binders that Alexander had been mulling through not minutes ago. She couldn’t tell whether the ensuing silence was of relief or of tension, and the overbearing banners and expensive crystalline decorations didn’t really help. 

“Well that’s that.” His Majesty clapped his hands together. “That’s a pleasant conclusion, isn’t it Alex? Hopefully it’s one thing less on your mind.” 

The Serperior just glared out the frosted window at the city below. “Perhaps.” 

“Only perhaps?” snickered Panne. “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” 

“It’s good to hear that there isn’t a calamity happening beneath our feet. The Bittercold isn’t returning, nor is any other facet of some world-ending force. That doesn’t extinguish the problem, though. It just narrows it down. The earth doesn’t have to be crumbling for there to be a disaster.” 

The Chesnaught walked over to his partner and placed a fabric-draped hand onto his back. “Come now. You can’t just bury yourself in more anxiety the moment you’re dug out of it. This is good news! We can breathe easier and focus our efforts on different things.” 

Alexander shook his head, eyes still trained on the skyline. “There is yet still so much to focus on. I fear that the threat was never ecological to begin with.” 

“What? Were you thinking that the city was going to tear itself apart?” Panne hobbled over and leaned her shoulder on her staff. “I think that’s a given regardless of whether there’s another human around or not. You put enough pokemon together in one place for long enough, you’re gonna get the same result. There’s evidence of that lesson being learned all over the world. Do you know how many ruins there are in Grass Continent that were once great cities? Because I don’t think you want to know.” 

“That will not happen here,” he insisted in a low voice. “I will not let it happen.” 

“Alex, relax! Twisting yourself into a tighter knot will get you nowhere.” Reinhardt reaffirmed his grip. “Vallion is out there doing as good of work as he can. For now, we should focus on getting control of the situation. You’re not alone in this endeavor.” 

The Chesnaught shot a sideways glance over to Panne. She raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and started to speak. “Yeah, I guess you aren’t. Something extra I dug up: If your Weavile isn’t a human after all, they still don't seem to have been a part of any of the local tribes before the city took over. The Shardurr tag also doesn’t seem to mean anything in their written language. No need to thank me, that was out of curiosity.” 

“...I see,” Alexander slowly said. 

“Since I’m not about to sit around doing nothing, I’ll keep looking into it. Just don’t expect as much out of me as you’re going to get out of Val. I’m over here trying not to step on his toes while he’s neck-deep in creeps. You know that archive of yours isn’t actually very thorough when it comes to what was here before Paradise was around.” 

A fluttering came through the doorway, followed a ways by the clanking footsteps of some massive pokemon. A Ribombee entered the counsel chamber with a nervous look behind her tiny glasses. 

“Sir. There’s been another fight on the border of West District.” 

“Again?” the Serperior hissed through his teeth and approached his assistant. “That’s the second one since this morning. What are the details? Has it been resolved?” 

“Of course it has,” boomed the voice who had thundered down the corridor after the Ribombee. It was the knight captain Kommo-o in all their clattering glory, their vapid little cape flowing freely behind them. They knelt down at the sight of Reinhardt, but not before shooting a nasty glare at Panne. “Your Majesty.” 

“Rise, Kommo-o,” the Chesnaught said with a wave of his fist. “Tell us what has happened.” 

“Corner of Fremont and Solia Street, Northeast section of West District. At approximately the turn of the eleventh hour, a fight between seven individuals broke out inside a nearby business and poured out into the street. Four wounded, one civilian included. Fairly significant property damage, considering one of the assailants was a Golem.” 

“Do you suspect this has to do with something gang-related?” Alexander cut to the chase. 

Kommo-o dipped his head. “There is already confirmation that it was a dispute between The Family and Shardurr, Master Alexander. Three to four respectively, presumed to be instigated by the latter.” 

“Again?!” the Serperior said. 

“We’ve already strengthened patrols in the area. Our response times to future events should be no longer than two minutes. In addition, we’re preemptively arresting a great deal of troublemakers involved with food trading thanks to an influx of intel.” 

Reinhardt crossed his arms and huffed. “Good work, captain. We don’t want another incident like last year. Nip this in the bud before it grows out of control.” 

“It might already be too late for that,” Alexander grumbled. 

The Kommo-o pounded a fist to their chest in a salute, sending a jingling wave over their plates. “Rest assured, sir. This situation is very much stable, and it will only continue to improve as soon as the Master of War returns from her mission overseas. Until then, I will return to overseeing these efforts. Good day.” 

Dismissed by a nod of Reinhardt’s head, the knight captain pivoted around with a huge swing of their tail and marched back out into the corridor. They could be heard stomping away well into the next minute and a half. All the while, Ribombee nervously flitted about over the center of the table. 

“Um,” the fairy stuttered, flipping through pages. “Other than that, not much has changed since we last met earlier. The East and Rusty Mountain Districts report no abnormalities with their water supplies since the fix. I’ll continue to monitor the situation.” 

“Very good, Ribombee.” The Serperior didn’t even turn to look at his assistant, having gone straight back to staring out the window like some flying type trapped in a cage. The fairy readily took the offer and exited the chamber in a flash. 

Panne laughed at the intensity of the silence that had fallen over them, leaning back to lay on her horizontal staff. “This sucks. The Family was already pissed off about something. I doubt your knights are going to make the situation any better at this point. I hope Val doesn’t have to deal with them.” 

The king leaned over the table and rearranged with the topmost papers. “Alex’s informant brought bad tidings last we saw him. It seemed there was some embargo in the underground trading between the two groups. I’m sure that has something to do with it. Regardless, if Vallion does get captured, I have every intention of pushing due process out of the way.” 

“He won’t be captured,” Alexander spoke up. “I don’t see that happening. He’s the one spearheading this trouble in the first place.” 

The Delphox shot up and planted her foot to the floor. “What did you say?” 

“I mean he’s doing it under the Weavile’s command--not that he’s the source of it. In fact, he’s doing exactly as I asked of him, and that’s what I’m worried about. We need to prepare for the worst with him at the helm of her little crusade.” 

Panne raised her nose to the arched ceiling. “Hmph! Well as long as you don’t do something that fucks us over, go on doing whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll let you know if your apocalypse comes barreling over the mountains. I got a place to be.” 

His Majesty gave a curt nod. “Stay safe, Panne. We’re counting on you.” 

  


_____

The Delphox left as unceremoniously as she entered, riding on her staff with her feet over the side and drifting around the corner with a bored look. Then there were two. Soon there would be none, and this farce would end so that they could all get back to work. The crooked Serperior extended a vine to gather up a bundle of legal scrolls and documents. 

“Alex,” Reinhardt repeated himself. 

“I’ve got court hearings to attend to,” he replied coldly. “My judges may uncover something of use from the troublemakers we’ve already detained. We could get in ahead of both the groups. I just need more time.” 

“Alexander.” A wide palm stopped the Serperior as he tried to leave. 

He begrudgingly waited, razor eyes pointed forward. “Your majesty, please. This isn’t the-” 

“Don’t call me that,” Reinhardt commanded. He wrapped an arm around his partner’s side with a surprising degree of care so as to not aggravate any old aches. They stood in that half-embrace for several long seconds. “Alex, stop. Breathe.” 

The Chesnaught’s grip hadn’t loosened. Alexander had no choice. He lowered his guard and his gaze both, a wheeze slowly pouring out from between his teeth. Relaxing even that much put a few jabs of pain into his spine. Resting at all always made it more difficult to keep moving. He couldn’t afford that precedent being set, not with everything that was going on. 

“I know, I know.” It was as if Rein could read his mind. “But find the time to decompress a little more, would you? I hate seeing you so strung out. You’re killing yourself whenever you get like this.” 

“I pledged my entire being to this city, Rein. I gave an oath that I would do everything in my power to protect it. So long as I can breathe, I will uphold that promise.” 

“Well you’re not going to be breathing for much longer if you keep it up like this.” The Chesnaught finally released him, a worried expression stuck to his gruff features. “I’m not asking you to stop. Just reel it in a bit for me, would you? Not as an order, but as a request from a friend.” 

“...Okay. Okay, fine.” 

The frown reversed on Reinhardt’s face. It didn’t do much to soothe the ache in Alexander’s bones, but his heart felt a little better. 

“Good. I’ll be with Lilli if you need me, okay? You should consider coming down for dinner. I know it gets lonely in that garden of yours, even if you don’t want to admit it.” 

Alexander rolled his eyes and swiveled around. “It’s not, but I’ll consider it.” 

  


_____

Frosted windows and a small pile of snow on the sill. Beyond the panes was a constant flow of carts and wagons, rolling over the slush in the treads of the wheels that came before them. Most of them weren’t even traders. There was simply a great deal of stuff that needed to get from one side of the city to another. Most of these larger, more hardy pokemon probably made their living doing nothing but hauling shit across Paradise for others. 

Was it enough to afford this damn mug of coffee, though? 

Panne took another reluctant sip from her cup and rested her elbows on the table, idly scanning the diner for what felt like the third time. It was well lit as far as most places in Paradise went, since a majority of the population preferred to surround themselves in as thick of walls as possible to keep the warm in. The decor was still just as grey and gloomy and so was every other pokemon in here with her. Kangaskhan’s cafe was much better, and it didn’t cost a goddamn fortune. 

Somewhere in her empty thoughts, a blur shot into her vision and landed on the opposite end of the table with a tap. Nibby brushed the ice from his chest fluff and ruffled himself with a shiver. 

Panne set her mug down and blew steam from her nose. “Are you always going to make me wait?” 

“Punctuality is not what I’ve been known for throughout my career,” Nibby said after one last shudder. “I’ve been busy for the last few days. An avalanche of cases has been coming in that I can’t afford to wait on. It’s been eating up most of my time.” 

“Yeah no shit. The left half of the city’s basically up in smoke by this point.” 

A cruel chuckle left the Noibat’s mouth. “Oh, no. You haven’t seen it up in smoke yet.” 

He turned his head to flag down the Zangoose waitress and ordered some coffee. Panne had her own mug refilled and watched a fresh wave of poor sods pass by outside. Speaking of temperatures, the fresh cup she was given was basically already cold by the time it reached her hands. Figures. 

“So why’d you call me down all of a sudden, anyway?” the Delphox said, warming the drink herself with a bit of controlled fire. “You find something out or what?” 

Nibby took a sip from the tiny mug he’d been given, which still came up to his waist. “It’s not that. You remember that little trip we took to a bad part of town?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Well The Family’s come calling back to us. I don’t know what for or why, but we’ve somehow caught their attention despite every other thing that’s going wrong. I had a wayward message eventually get to me with a time and location.” 

“Ha.” Panne rolled her ears back. “Well alright. I’m not doing too much else now. Seems like it would be fun to check out.” 

“What?! Panne, no.” Nibby struggled not to shout. “That’s- that’s not what I meant! I’m saying we should be laying low from this point on. They know our faces. I mean damn, if they figured out who I am then I could be in deep mud right about now. They’re not gonna let a P.I. stumble on their line of work and get away with it!” 

She shrugged. “That’s fine. I can go it alone, too. Makes no difference to me.” 

“No, you can’t- Hollow preserve me, you’re unbelievable.” He shook his head and groaned. “Maybe you don’t have any quarrel with them personally, but they don’t like me. I’m the guy that puts their guys in jail! They’re probably sniffing around for me right now!” 

“But I literally just said that I’ll go alone. What’s your problem here?” 

“Look, I don’t care if you’re the king of the world and the strongest pokemon alive. Doesn’t matter how many Dark Matters you’ve quashed--that’s a hare-brained scheme and I’d never let you go through with it.” 

Panne pushed her elbows further up the table, her brow furrowed. “Nibby, I don’t know you. What the fuck do you care if I want to stroll on up to The Family and have a nice chat? What’s the worst that would happen?” 

The Noibat pushed his coffee aside. “They kill you. Kidnap you, maybe. You’re mortal, ain’t you? Your party tricks and history can’t change that. Don’t make me beg you, Panne. Quit looking for trouble.” 

“Well.” Panne pulled back and slid down in her seat, exhaling the whole way. “It looks like you’re going to have to beg me, then, because I’m gonna take those assholes up on their offer. I’m more curious on why you feel so hell-bent on coming with me. It’s clearly a you-problem more than it is a me-problem.” 

“Just...Please don’t.” 

“I’m not a very nice person, Nibby. I don’t really care how you feel when you’re forcing yourself to follow me around. That’s your own damn fault as far as I’m concerned. And besides, if shit does go south, I can finally let off some steam and bash some heads in. This town is totally miserable--it’s no wonder you’re all starting wars with one another for fun.” 

With an exasperated roll of his head, he marched back to his mug and took a long, annoyed swig. The moment hung for long enough that Panne got distracted staring out at the street again, her ears swiveling to hone in on an argument that broke out between a Primeape and a Gastrodon. Seems they crashed the corners of their wagons together or some dumb shit like that. It wasn’t a very compelling reason to get this mad, that’s for sure. 

“It’s at six.” 

“Huh?” She turned back to the Noibat. 

“The meeting time for that message. It’s today at six. I don’t have to tell you where, I can just lead you around since I’ll be there.” 

“But you’re not gonna tell me why you’re gonna risk life and limb to follow a Delphox into a den of criminals?” 

“No.” 

Panne shrugged. “I mean, suit yourself then. I’m not gonna stop you either way. Who knows? Maybe you’re just overreacting. Maybe that crotchety old Weavile found something we missed on our first pass.” 

The calm hit differently this time around. Redland District didn’t have that same sleepy, worn-down feel to it. The evening air had become electric, and not just because there were patrols of two or three guards every couple of blocks. The city was holding its breath. The eyes of Paradise fell solely on this part of town and its southern sister. God, that must have been awful for business, too. It’d be impossible to move any illegal goods around with the whole damn kingdom so focused. 

Panne couldn’t help but feel wound-up in that energy as she drifted along the wide central street. Nibby perched at the helm of her staff like always, but he was clearly not happy to be here. You could suspend a damn bridge with the tension in the air. It was bad enough that the Delphox had run out of hope that this was something pleasant. Still, they were already here. Might as well see, right? 

They went beyond the point where Panne’s memory spanned. Main Street started to show its abuse, with cracks and dust and clumsily-plowed piles of snow. The further they got from the heart of the city, the less pokemon needed to use this passage, the less anybody cared. If Nibby were to speak up from that vow of silence, he’d probably remark how ominous it was that the meeting place was so far out of the way. 

She imagined his nagging voice only getting worse as they swerved down some shady avenue where the snow was piled high beneath the lips of rooftops. They moved out of sight of the main road along the slight curve of the alley. There were already grim pokemon leaning against walls and on windowsills, staring at the newcomers out of the corners of their eyes. This was so very arranged that it hurt. 

“We’re doomed,” Nibby managed to mutter quietly enough that Panne could barely hear it. 

Determined not to lose heart, the Delphox went on through and came out of the other side into a slight clearing. Calling it a breath of fresh air would be dishonest--it was just a square lot surrounded by the towering walls of many two-story buildings. There, an Electabuzz approached them. 

“What’s your business?” 

Panne raised her nose. “You’re the ones that called us here, dipshit. You know our business better than we do.” 

The Electabuzz’s dark expression twitched. “You want your other leg broken?” 

“Only if you’re fine with having your spine outside your body.” 

“What’s with all the yelling?” came a conniving voice she had hoped not to hear again. That old Weavile tinged with grey fur stepped out into the open from beyond a pair of rickety doors. He looked to the Electabuzz in disgust. “Why are you pestering our guests? Fuck off with you. We have business inside.” 

Ah yes. This was the part where she followed a high-ranking gang member through some doorway into a darkly-lit back room. Panne voiced her complaints all the while, almost amused at the cliche. 

“You guys need to work on your warm welcomes. People are gonna get the wrong idea when they walk into heavily-guarded alleys.” 

“What ideas will they get?” the Weavile mused, closing the door behind them. The only light filtered in through the horizontal rows of wooden shutters on the windows. 

“Well you know. That they’re immediately surrounded by a group of malicious criminals. What’s someone supposed to think?” 

The ice type chuckled. “My dear. Anyone who steps into this part of town already knows that. The sharp stares are just for decoration, I assure you.” 

This room was already inhabited. Apart from furniture covered in dusty white cloth and rotting boxes, there were two more. A Carnivine and a Hitmontop, looking stern in the corners of the room, waiting for the slightest altercation to jump at. At the end of the day, they were no different than the hired guards that politicians in Lively City lugged around. That comparison didn’t even sound good in her head, huh? 

“I would say I’m surprised to see you two came,” the Weavile began with a clap of his claws. “But I think that might just be my pessimism talking. It’s difficult to earn trustworthy associates these days. So many folks lack consistency around here. It’s a shame.” 

“Why did you call for us?” Nibby found the courage to speak up. 

Their host grunted and started to pace. “Because something very interesting happened between the time I first met with you and now. I know you like cutting to the chase. Why did Master Alexander ask you to investigate if there was a Weavile in Shardurr?” 

Panne let her ears flick back. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. You know I haven’t gotten any further on that trail since we last met, right? Kinda hard to get anything done when everyone’s at each other’s throats. I was hoping you’d have something, honestly.” 

“He knew something we didn’t even know. You both knew, too.” His eyes narrowed and his feathery ears whipped back. “There _is_ a Weavile in Shardurr. And more than that, she was the one that’s been carving that crude letter into everything. She was even so kind as to leave that same marking in the same spot that she stole from us.” 

She pretended to act surprised. “Ha! So that snake sent me on the right path after all? What else happened? You got any more details for me?” 

The two guards started to move, with the Hitmontop butting in front of the only exit in sight and the Carnivine coming to a stop on the opposite end of the room. The Weavile just kept pacing back and forth in their line. 

“Actually, that’s not how this is going to work. We’re going to be the ones asking the details from you. Hopefully you’ll be telling them to the Matriarch herself.” 

The Delphox let a bubble of laughter roll off her tongue. “What? You’re wasting time that you could be using to deal with the imminent collapse of your whole gang. You literally know more than me about this.” 

“This isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Nibby added. “Sorry to say, but you barked up the wrong tree this time.” 

“Aw. That’s sad to hear,” mocked the Weavile, who didn’t seem in the least bit disheartened. “But I’m going to have to disagree with you there. Even if this Chenza figure that’s appeared means nothing to you, there was reason in you coming here.” 

Panne suppressed a sigh. Of course. “Whatever, big guy. What’s it gonna take for us to walk out of here this time?” 

“Oh, you? Nothing. You’re apparently no use to us after all. Which is a shame, because I don’t know if you’ve seen the printing press lately, but our way of life seems to be in some dire straits. Though I’ve got a little something on your friend there.” 

“Oh shit,” the Noibat barely mouthed. 

The Weavile’s pacing suddenly stopped. The air somehow went colder than it already was. That cruel grin that always seemed to show off the ice type’s fangs disappeared beneath a tight-lipped calm. She wasn’t the empathetic type of psychic, but she sure as hell sensed that something was about to go wrong. 

“Turns out there were some documents stolen from the capital a while back,” their host continued in their exaggerated, mocking tone. “It wasn’t big news. Everyone forgot within a couple of days, because that’s just what happens. Until recently, nobody knew what those documents were. Now a large portion of my associates have become wanted pokemon, seemingly right when Shardurr has started to make a move. Ain’t that funny?” 

Nibby shivered out his tail. “Oh fuck. Oh no.” 

“Incriminating evidence. Search warrants. Locations and names. Alexander had been keeping tabs on us--slowly weeding us out over time to prevent a panic. Whoever stole those papers dumped them on some third party, who dumped them on the guard all at once. Can you guess who that third party was, Delphox?” 

In a flash of motion, Nibby lifted off from the tip of her staff and tried to make a break for the windows. Panne could scarcely gasp before the Carnivine launched a vine and snapped the Noibat out of the air. She held her staff diagonally in the air and latched into a fighting stance. 

“Hey! What the fuck?! Let him go!” Panne cried out, flames already dancing over her free hand. 

Finding his grin once more, the Weavile strolled around to the other side of the room, circling her like a wild Sharpedo smelling blood in the water. “Why? He’s the one we wanted, anyway. Unassuming bastard’s put us through hell already. The Matriarch will sort him out, I’m sure, and hopefully put out some fires in the process. Since you know nothing we want to know, you’re useless.” 

“Panne, you have to get out of here!” Nibby projected his voice as best he could, but the stranglehold of vines let little more than a croak flee from his throat. “Go! Now!” 

She almost chuckled. The surge of adrenaline was a welcome feeling, and one that warded away the cold. A deep breath fanned the flames in her chest just as well as the immolation around her fist. “Are you fucking kidding me? What do you take me for, a coward? Just hold still, I’ll get you out of there in a moment. Just let me deal with these lowlifes first.” 

“Still so much bravado!” shouted the Weavile from out of the corner of her vision. The Hitmontop shifted around all the while. “Ah, youth. You remind me of Shardurr, too. Hot-headed. Reckless. Stupid. I’d love to erase the type of pokemon you are from the face of the earth.” 

“Just go-!” Nibby tried to speak out, but the vines around his tiny neck tightened. No doubt that Carnivine was barely holding back. Any second now it could slip up, and she doubted Nibby’s fragile frame could take the abuse. 

This was it! Panne couldn’t help but sigh as she spun herself around, a burning sensation deep within her lungs that yearned to crawl out and explode from her fingertips. A rising shower of embers burst into the air as she aimed that potential straight into the Carnivine’s face. 

“Have a taste of this you waste of-!” 

Space. The space behind her was open. The Weavile seemed to weigh almost nothing as he jumped onto her back, but the dread that set in made up for the missing pounds. A talon dug in hard and traced from right to left across the length of her neck. The fleeting second ended. The weight on her back jumped away. Panne reflectively went to clutch at her throat, and clattered to the floor as her concentration fled. 

Nibby could barely choke out a yell. In the intensity of the following second, Panne heard everything. The Hitmontop’s single syllable of a laugh. The Carnivine’s grunt as they struggled to keep hold of the flailing Noibat. The Weavile’s satisfied huff as he brushed his claw off onto his fur. Her heartbeat reigned supreme above all else. 

“I’d wish that all of The Family’s enemies could act like spoiled children. It makes it so easy. Carnivine, let’s go. Mandibuzz is waiting.” 

Sprawled out over the musky floorboards, Panne realized something. Firstly, once sensation returned to her fingers, that there was no stickiness on them from an open wound. Second, that there was a very deep imprint that went straight across her Harmony Scarf. The fur underneath was very much untouched, though the bruise was a different story. Oh Val. You really are always watching out, aren’t you? 

Still low to the ground, Panne grabbed at her staff and tried to rise. Nobody was looking at her. In fact, it seemed that the Carnivine was having trouble trying to unlock the door. A flood of light and wind rushed in as soon as it was open. Right when they stepped aside to let their superior through, Panne’s mental hands yanked at the wooden weight and slammed it shut in his face. 

“What the-” 

“You know!” Panne started to loudly say, climbing onto staff and letting it haul her the rest of the way up. “Nobody really knows the true extent of what a Harmony Scarf can do. Legend has it that the leaves of the Tree of Life are indestructible. You could drop one into a volcano and it wouldn’t do a damn thing. Not that I’ve tried on purpose.” 

Weavile turned, an incredulous look overwriting his stupid fucking grin once and for all. That filled Panne with a great deal of satisfaction. 

“How the fuck did you...Finish her off already!” 

Before the Hitmontop could even react to the order, Panne had already lifted one of the covered tables and launched the whole thing at their head. They tried to shield themselves, but there wasn’t much one could do to stop a chunk of wood that was speeding towards you like a diving Talonflame. The bang and resulting thud resonated throughout the entire building, damaging the wall behind the fighting type as they tumbled over. 

“You’re right, geezer. I was being reckless. All that teaching and not enough rescuing was making me rusty. So congratulations, you got me fair and square. I should be bleeding out on the floor right now. Enjoy that feeling while you’re still conscious.” 

In the background, she had been holding that door as tightly to its frame as possible. The Carnivine struggled against her grasp for a while, so when she finally shoved it back open, the grass type stumbled out the other side. Their head was in a beautiful position to bring the door back in on, resulting in an even worse slam and a crunching sound. The door practically snapped off its hinges, the Carnivine was propelled into the Weavile’s back, and Nibby was involuntarily released from his prison of vines. 

A storm of swears flew out of the ice type’s mouth. Regaining his footing, he dashed over to the side of the room, using the furniture as cover for his advance. A couple icicles came shooting through the air, but embedded themselves in the wall behind Panne instead. She didn’t even have to dodge. 

“Not so easy when my back ain’t turned, is it? What’s the matter, old man? Age starting to get to ya?” 

“Shut up!” he shouted from the shadows. 

A black form moved from within, lunging to disembowel her in one fell swoop. The Delphox twisted in the air with her curled leg acting as a pivotal point for the rest of her staff, blocking the claws before they even had a chance to get close. The flurry of enraged slashes continued, but found no weakness in her defenses. She rewarded the attempt by lifting herself above the spinning steel with only her arms and letting it collide with the Weavile’s cheek. 

“Ha! Look at you! Getting beaten by a cripple? What’s your matriarch going to say about that? Should’ve retired years ago.” 

Nibby had regained his composure and took the air at some point. He fluttered around listlessly, staying as close to the ceiling as he could. “Panne, we gotta go! Everyone outside started to notice what’s going on!” 

She resumed her original position, eyes trained on her crumpled opponent. “So? We were gonna have to go through them anyway. I don’t see what the big problem is. Just stay behind me, they probably have guys that can catch you out of the air.” 

A fresh trail of blood ran down through the Weavile’s claws as he scrambled on all fours and hurried through the opening left by the destroyed door. He barked a quick order to the gathering crowd outside. Panne felt a pang of guilt that she had been wishing for this all this time. It didn’t let off any steam at all. She reluctantly accepted her fate and gestured for Nibby to follow her out into the cold. 

There was a good ten to fifteen pokemon waiting for her. Some small, most large. Some flew, most walked. All were looking for a fight. 

A Galvantula was the first to answer the call among them, launching a string of web arcing with static electricity at the Delphox’s center of mass. She had no trouble ascending above the snaring attack, putting her back to a brick wall and gathering a deep breath in her core. 

A Beedrill rushed at her stinger-first. She grit her teeth and kicked off the wall, flipping above the insect and raining a deluge of hell over their head. The acrobatics helped avoid the second strand of electrified webbing that came her way. A group of thugs had already run to corner her as soon as she reached the ground. 

They always underestimate her. A skinny Delphox on a stick with one leg is all they see. It puts them on the offensive--makes them not realize why the weapon she rides around was made of steel. Panne spun into her landing like a force of nature, breaking two jaws and denting one chestplate of metallic chitin. That latter Scizor managed to grab onto the end of her staff to stop her momentum. She flicked that end downwards to breathe a compressed blast of red flames directly into their face. 

A Typhlosion made the mistake of launching as many flames towards the Delphox as they possibly could muster. The other gangsters scrambled out of the way as the fire type dropped down and aimed their arched back towards her. The wake of the plume was enough to instantly vaporize a huge swathe of snow. Panne sucked in a breath and wrapped her mind around the developing contours of the roiling inferno, catching onto the heat and leading it upwards and over her head. She let the flames roll around and swell into a single point not larger than a toy ball, where she squeezed with the pressure in her temples rather than her hands. 

“That’s pretty nice!” she shouted to the Typhlosion. “Volcarona’s stronger, though!” 

And like a toy ball, she lobbed that white-hot sphere of compressed heat and released her psychic hold. The pressure released all at once, the resulting explosion knocked almost everyone off their feet as well as knocked the wind from her lungs. She psychically grabbed at the remaining embers and forced them to burst as well, blasting at least four of the thugs out of the way in a snapping shower of miniature explosions. 

The metallic smell of blood joined with scents of burnt sulfur. Panne couldn’t really focus on the details much while stuck in a headspin, dodging around the metal pole she had locked in place to land a kick square in the eye of that Electabuzz she’d pissed off earlier. She planted that good foot onto the ground and jammed her staff into their stomach with a little extra mental force added in. 

That Galvantula came back around to bring a bolt of lightning down on her in the meantime. She let go of her staff physically and stuck it upright against the ground mentally. The conductive material dragged the current away from her and let it fade into the stone beneath the single leg she was balanced on. 

A blur of motion in her peripherals. She dragged her staff back to brace herself and launched her arm forward to catch the attack. Her hand went around the Weavile’s neck, stopping him mid-air. He was clearly surprised by her strength, even despite the fact that he had just watched her sling her own body weight around. 

“Thought you could get a cheeky second shot at that?” The Delphox laughed. Heat bloomed in the palm of her hand as she squeezed her nails into the flesh above the ice type’s collar. His talons scratched at her arm, but the fur there was dense enough that he only got tangled up. “I don’t think so. Nobody gets second shots at me.” 

That sneaky bastard made an excellent shield against the Galvantula’s webbing. A few jolts ran down her arm and screamed in her muscles, but not nearly enough to stop the crimson explosion that emitted from her fingers. The Weavile’s head whipped backwards from the force, launching him in a backwards flip until he slammed down crest-first into the snow. He went limp, though even if he didn’t he was bound anyway. 

The Galvantula found themselves to be the last one standing. They didn’t stick around much longer, fleeing up the side of a building and over the overhanging rooftop. 

Next thing she knew, marked guards and caped knights came flooding into the alley like a tsunami, alerted to the fight by the incredible cacophony she caused. They surrounded the Delphox in seconds, and descended upon the results of her carnage shortly after. Nibby was nowhere to be seen. Flew off during the chaos, probably. If only she had the chance to do that, too. 

“Aw shit,” Panne said aloud, out of breath. “I forgot to ask Alexander for another one of his little permission slips. This is going to look way worse now.” 

“Don’t move!” shouted a Blastoise bearing Paradise’s emblem on their chest, cannons pointed and armed. They weren’t the only ones taking aim. 

“Oh, well you’re welcome. I took care of a bunch of criminals for you. How’d you guys even miss this hideout? It’s barely out of view.” 

The noisiest stomping imaginable bounced from the four corners of the stone box they were crammed into. Kommo-o was here, flanked by yet more of Reinhardt’s royal order of warriors. The dragon looked about as happy to see her as they always did. 

Having seen the captain, she took the time to casually glance over herself, scanning for injuries she’d feel later or were present on the leg she couldn’t feel at all. “Hey! Platehead! I did your job for you. Tell your swarm of Combee to shove off so that I can leave.” 

“Why are you here?” barked the dragon. 

“Hm? Because these assholes wanted to tear me a new one. They sent a message out for me and everything. If you honestly think I’m cavorting with the gang that I just slammed into next sunday, your skull’s thicker than your steel.” 

Kommo-o paused, then after a disappointed glare, shook their head and told their underlings to back off. There was definitely some confusion among the ranks, but disciplined as they all were, the guard allowed her to pass on their superior’s word. It felt like she had to plow through an invisible wall to get by the dragon, though. For a split second, during that short blink where she overtook the Kommo-o, a terrible sense of dread loomed over her. 

As she entered the alley, it was gone without a trace.


	13. Prince of Shadows

The tavern had no name as far as Vallion was aware. It didn’t really need a name. Its notoriety and purpose were more than enough to cement it in people’s minds. It was loud and terrible. It was the nucleus of all villainy in this corner of the kingdom. It didn’t even have that nice fire that the other inn had. It was affordable and that was the end of its positive traits. 

This tea, though. It was alright. Better than drinking that Torkoal’s self-heated hot water. Even if this cup of tea did originate from a crate of illegal goods that he stole himself. 

Vallion set the glass down between his coils, sitting on a raised step not far from a crowded furnace. While still terrible in every right, the louder quality of the tavern had fallen to the wayside for just this morning. Not a single fight had broken out. A tangible anticipation had gripped even the roughest members of Shardurr, temporarily uniting the rowdy population into a single, universal bated breath. 

Something was about to happen. 

As if it wasn’t already quiet enough, Brute himself plowed through the swinging doors and stomped his way in. The Druddigon’s presence inspired everyone whose lips weren’t already sealed to withdraw into their seats. Vallion had learned recently that seeing Brute at all was a special occasion to be feared. The dragon rarely made his presence known among the gang. Nobody knew where he slept, or where he would go when the jobs were done. It was common knowledge that whenever he showed up, you shut the fuck up, and you listened. 

Brute didn’t stop until he was in the very center of the room. He looked up at the second floor, peering at the arched ceiling to make sure everyone that sat on high perches or peered over the railing were in view. His shoulder had finally healed, it seemed. The scar underneath his eye remained. 

“Listen up!” boomed the dragon, his guttural growl seemingly shaking the foundations of the building. “Drop whatever the fuck you were doing today. Something came up. Meet up at the fifth warehouse down the road in one hour. Tell any others who haven’t heard. Do. Not. Be. Late.” 

The murmur of affirmation of immediate. Still, Brute lingered. He eyed the Serperior from afar for a few moments, then made his way over with the same aura of brutality. Vallion raised the tea to his lips and tilted his head back, returning the glare with a sidelong one of his own. 

“And you,” the Druddigon grumbled not more than a foot away. “Forty minutes.” 

Vallion finished sipping at his drink. “Whatever you say.” 

A huff of smoke was the dragon’s only response. Brute turned away, and lumbered out the very same door he came in. 

It took a full minute before even pokemon as rough as these dared to speak up again. This time, the chatter was about what this sudden assembly could be about. Most of what reached Vallion’s ears was certain that it directly involved The Family. They were probably right, though there were more rumors swirling around in the mix. The Serperior even felt a few stares be pointed his way. It was flattering in a crude sort of way. 

Half an hour later and on the third ten-minute anniversary of his cup running dry, Vallion gave into his boredom and left for the spontaneous meeting, frowning at the snowfall that immediately started to land on his snout. 

Even in this hemmed-in little valley of poverty, it was far more quiet than it should have been. The tiniest taps from clumps of snowflakes were audible, the surrounding hills serving as natural acoustic barriers to protect it from the hum of the city. The sun had only now started to cast its rays on the back of the dense clouds above, so perhaps the lull was from the persisting darkness. Even that seemed like wishful thinking. 

The winding street went on for quite a ways, almost deserted apart from him. He knew the place already. It was the same warehouse that he visited to meet up with Roserade on the day of his first task. This whole block mostly consisted of huge storage facilities that were seemingly ignored for the most part. Just places for richer guilds to dump their unwieldy supplies and assets to forget about until they were needed again. It helped that Shardurr had already paid off the entire private company that was supposed to guard them. 

Vallion approached the warehouse in question with the slightest pangs of apprehension. Blaming it on nerves, he peered into a crack between the huge folding gate and saw nothing but dirt and darkness. Pushing into the opening with his head, he slowly entered, a smell of age and neglect on his tongue. 

It took a while for his eyes to adjust. It wasn’t as pitch black in here as it originally seemed, though the slight opening he came through was all there was to see by. There were three rows of racks that spanned the length of the warehouse and climbed three shelves high. The racks were empty, apart from a few small boxes and some tarps. 

“Right on time, Bright-eyes.” 

He couldn’t place where Chenza’s voice had originally echoed from, so he didn’t try. “What are you scheming now? I doubt huge meetings like this are common. You can barely fit ten of your people in the same room without someone getting hurt.” 

The Weavile stepped out of the shadows behind one of the racks, a slight spring in her step. “There you go again, doing your Serperior thing. You haven’t seen just what those boys are capable of yet. Nobody’s a soldier until you light a flame under their asses and dangle a carrot in front of their face.” 

“So what’s this supposed to be? The carrot or the flame?” 

The stale air shifted with the beat of a pair of wings. Freak landed on the corner of one of the racks. “You’ve already lit the flame, Serperior, but it’s not under us. The Family’s on the verge of implosion as we speak. A decade-long scheme is about to unravel, and we’ll be the ones to pull the string taut.” 

“We could have done it ourselves,” grumbled an earthquake of a voice. Brute had been waiting at the corner of the gate this whole time, somehow just out of sight. “I see no reason why the Serperior deserves to be here.” 

Chenza’s laugh filled the warehouse. “Still sore about that, are you? Brute, you really need to get your jealousy in check. You’ve been acting like a second child.” 

The dragon grunted and sucked in a breath to retort, but let the words disintegrate at the back of his tongue. 

“So about the carrot,” Vallion started again. “We’ve put The Family on the edge. How are you going to convince your followers to risk their lives to make the final push? A cornered wildling strikes without reservation, and the guards have already swarmed this half of the city.” 

“Bright-eyes, honestly. Shut up. I don’t know what makes you think I need your input on something I’ve been planning for years, or why you think you need to be in the center of it all. Just stand there and look menacing, why don’t you? I don’t need that persistence undermining what I’m about to do.” 

The best Vallion could give was a shrug and a sigh. Time rolled on, more started coming. The first to arrive peeked impishly through the entrance just as he had. After them, a precedent for boldness urged individuals to plow on through in the noisiest ways possible. No doubt this was gathering a great deal of attention from the outside. A trail of crooks and criminals, all funneling down the same street to the same place at the same time. Someone was going to notice. Perhaps that was intentional, too? 

Soon a good deal of the warehouse was filled with Shardurr’s ranks. You could see where clumps of pokemon started to form--cliques in the hierarchy, accumulating on the fringes of the crowd. The murmurs from before grew excited, buzzing off the arched roof of the warehouse and back down into their ears. 

On Chenza’s orders, Freak, Brute, and Vallion all ascended to the top row of the three racks. The discolored Swellow arrived at his perch with hardly a glance his way. Vallion silently spiraled up the supporting corner pole and garnered much of the same reaction. It wasn’t until Brute, who climbed up the rack with a few massive beats of his wings for support, that the pokemon finally fell silent. The whole shelf looked like it was about to collapse under the Druddigon’s weight. 

“Quiet!” commanded the dragon, his own growl bouncing back at him. That was it, though. Chenza had offered no further instructions than this. In the moment that followed, a few tiny voices started back up, along with a few braver ones. 

“What’s going on?” somebody called out. 

“Yeah! What’re we here for?” another said. 

In addition to the natural echo, those words reverberated off the hearts of the crowd, sparking many to say the same redundant thing as if the answer would come any sooner if they all spoke loud enough. Vallion felt especially out of place up here, even if nobody was really looking to him as much as they were the other two. 

Another quiet fell. The Serperior looked to see why, and saw Brute step aside to allow a Weavile past on the central rack. Chenza stood precariously over the edge and stared down at the collection of thugs like they were her loyal subjects. She probably imagined that they were. 

The first dissenting call. “Who the hell’r you?!” 

Before the single voice could multiply and spiral out of control once more, Freak let loose a shriek that stung at the ears of everyone unfortunate enough to be present. After that, he uttered a single command to his unruly flock. 

“Listen.” 

And so dozens of vicious eyes looked up at the Weavile and did just that. A smile broke out across her face. She extended her arms outwards like she was about to embrace the glares. 

“Oh, it’s been a long time. Most of you have no idea who I am, do you? Just another face you’ve already forgotten about before. It’s kind of sad if you ask me. After all, Shardurr wouldn’t even be around if I hadn’t started it.” 

So that’s what this was. 

It took a moment for that last bit to sink in, but once it did, an eruption of noise and jeering completely filled the warehouse. Incredulous remarks with an unnecessary amount of swears mixed in. Disbelief and shouting. Who was this pokemon who dared to stand in front of them and claim such things? 

But there were a few that Vallion saw bow their heads or shout down the rabble beside them. He could easily pick out which ones had been around the longest. The divide was clear, though the vast majority were those screaming about this pretender. 

“SHUT UP!” Once more, Brute’s presence convinced a large swathe of the voices to go silent, but less than before. He added, in an equally as demanding tone, “She speaks the truth. I was not first. Freak was not, either. This Weavile was.” 

“What is this shit?!” 

“Brute! What the hell?!” 

This really was miserable. Vallion’s eye twitched at the cacophony, all the while Chenza stood glaring over the ledge of the rack, a fearless smirk directed at the score of pokemon that now wanted to tear her limb from limb. Surely there was a more tactful way to do this. She must have known that this was the only outcome of such a brazen announcement. Thoroughly annoyed, the Serperior extended his vines and cracked them like whips a few times, vying for control of the volume. 

A very particular question stood out. “Why’s that fuckin’ Serperior up there?!” 

It came from the same Incineroar who Vallion had disgraced during his initiation. The first one to throw a punch, he recalled. Like earlier, the fire type’s question spurred those around him to ask the same, the shockwave affecting a quarter of the mob in moments. By this point there was a large amount of Shardurr who knew of the Serperior, but less that respected him. 

Chenza thought that was an excellent opportunity to speak up. “You guys mean Bright-eyes? Come on, it’s not that hard. He’s up there because he’s better than you. How’s that shoulder doing, Incineroar?! Didn’t run back home crying to your rich Persian daddy, did you?” 

Apart from that Incineroar in particular, most of the attention was channeled back into her, and there was even some laughter at the fire type’s expense. She straightened her back and shouted over them all. “Alright, alright! That’s enough, you idiots! I don’t care what you believe! I’m not here to debate whether or not I’m in charge! I’m here to offer you a proposition instead. How would you all like to rip The Family down once and for all?” 

Even if the methods were just as crude as the pokemon she used them on, it seemed Chenza did have sway over her gang after all. Simply mentioning their recent rival raised eyebrows and swiveled ears. 

“That get your attention, did it? Well let me hold onto it a little longer. Those bastards have made fools of us the last couple weeks. Our money wasn’t good enough for them anymore, apparently. They cut contact with us like we were filth! They tried to make moves on our territory! And when we finally took what was ours, they start attacking us in broad daylight?! Honestly, are you morons the kinds of pokemon that are gonna just take that?” 

The answer was a mangled mess of overlapping dissent. She rode that sound like it was an updraft beneath her wings. “Obviously not! You wouldn’t be here otherwise! Those old bastards made a mockery of us, then turned around and immediately slipped up and got the king’s men on them! Why not finish the job, I say? Why not give them what’s coming to them? Remember that they’re the ones that want you to starve in the first place! It’s their business to keep you hungry!” 

The crowd cheered just as readily as it had once rejected Chenza’s existence. “That’s right! I speak your language already! I know you want them gone! I’ve wanted them gone for years! And why not take our fill while it’s up for grabs? If the king gets his hands on their stashes, he’ll just hide them away in vaults and let us all waste away for another winter! I don’t care if you know who I am or not, you know I’m right!” 

“We are not a band of thieves lurking in the shadows!” screeched Freak, his chest flared and his wings splayed. “We are not the scum of the city! We are not careless sons and daughters guided by impulse! We are the heirs of Paradise, and we are an army of our own! Take what is rightfully yours!” 

It was getting out of hand now. Various streams of fire and light were launched into the air to the crowd’s resounding agreement. Razor leaf confetti and geysers of mist. The uproar must have been audible to the rest of the block at least, perhaps even farther. Even Brute let loose a steady roar of fire directed towards the ceiling. West District had been waiting for a chance like this for a long time. The mold would finally be broken. 

“You hear me now, don’t you?!” Chenza was shaking. Her eyes had gone wild, too. She was a manic mirror of the crowd. “Louder! Let The Family hear you from across town! Let them know who’s coming to put an end to them! Those fateless old crooks sitting on their mountains of grain will get their just desserts! Come on, louder!” 

The Weavile was basking in it now, head tilted back like she was floating on a cloud of bliss. Vallion was starting to get worried now. They might not even get a chance to capitalize on The Family’s mistakes if this kept up. 

And yet...The feeling was a little infectious, wasn’t it? It’d be difficult to dispute that fact while standing here, high above a raging sea of that same rebellious energy. This was how she meant for it to be. Like a wave that washes over you, pulling you under now or submerging you later. It was positively intoxicating in a way. This wasn’t how someone would conduct a street gang. This was a revolution. 

People were going to get hurt. 

One of the quietest sections of West District had come to life not an hour ago. Now, the overlookable roads that connected a network of warehouses were crawling with diverted patrols of guards, who were none the wiser about the noise complaints they’d been getting in. 

Vallion watched from the black metal railing of a balcony not far from where the commotion had been. This vacant duplex was owned by no deed or paper, yet one of the most dangerous and notorious figures this side of Paradise had lived hidden away here for months. Brute preferred the basement, anyway, so it was quiet upstairs. 

The raging mob that Chenza had summoned ended up dispersing surprisingly efficiently. He had expected the fools to go on a rampage there and then, but her words somehow got through even their thick skulls. It was impressive, and honestly a little frightening, how easily she could work that adrenaline-laced horde. Now that they had slipped away, everything had gone much too quiet. 

The Serperior wasn’t alone for long. Talons landed and clung to the railing beside him, seemingly from nowhere. Freak’s preferred entrance. He must’ve wrapped up whatever it was he was discussing downstairs with Chenza. Nothing of import to Vallion, anyway. 

“You fit into your new position quite well,” the Swellow said after a time. “Especially for someone so new to Paradise.” 

“I feel the opposite.” 

“Really? A Serperior, feeling out of place in a position of power?” 

Vallion shrugged out his vines and changed the subject. “I spoke to Zoroark a few days ago. He told me to say that he wished you well.” 

A squawking laugh snaked past Freak’s beak. “Oh, you were the one that had to do that? Which form did he take this time?” 

“A Hypno. Does that mean something?” 

“Not really. Old man Hypno was always a major thorn in our sides when we were kids. He was a total victim--always thought that we were sniffing around in his business. It got to the point that we started to hang around his house without causing any trouble at all just to make him paranoid.” 

“You have quite the history, it seems.” A hum came in response, then nothing. The wind blew flecks of ice across his nose and whistled in his ears. Vallion didn’t expect to feel invested, but there was something else on his mind. “What is this to you, anyway? This finishing blow Chenza is planning to throw at The Family. I’ve gathered that it means something to you in particular.” 

The Swellow’s beak clapped. “Curious, now? What happened to being impartial?” 

“Hmph. Then forget I said anything.” 

“That attitude isn’t particularly stoic, either,” Freak said, craning his head to preen a bit. His head was still beneath his wing when he spoke next. “I was born in Redland District. From the first dawn of my life, I was already involved with The Family. This business was something I was hatched into. I’ve never known anything else.” 

Vallion dipped his head. “Your parents were active in it?” 

“My mother is the Matriarch, Mandibuzz.” 

“Ah.” Vallion paused. He rolled that fact around on his forked tongue, digesting it slowly, before reaching out for another. “Why are you Shardurr, then?” 

Freak stopped preening just to shoot him an dubious look. “Do you really expect me to dump my life story on you?” 

A chuckle fell past the Serperior’s lips. “Fair enough. I haven’t exactly given mine, and I don’t plan to.” 

“...Still. I suppose I can phrase it another way.” Freak shifted in place. “What does Chenza represent to you?” 

Perhaps more than she does to you, he thought. A fellow human, perhaps. A threat. A calamity waiting to happen. These weren’t things he was willing to say out loud, and the deeper he dug, the more he found that there wasn’t a concrete answer beyond them. What does she represent to him, indeed? 

The Swellow continued despite his lack of reply. “Paradise is poisoned. It doesn’t come from anything new or external. The sickness was always there, waiting in the roots, slowly manifesting in a way that was too difficult to notice. It’s obvious pokemon were never meant to live this way. The Hollow knows that Paradise’s fate is a downward spiral. You can see that, right?” 

He blinked. “Maybe.” 

“What does a living body do when it is sickened?” 

“It...alters itself to fight off the sickness, I presume. Changes its metabolism. Raises its temperature with a fever to burn off the illness.” 

Freak gave a satisfied coo, then went back to preening. “Shardurr is the fever.”


	14. Like Mother, Like Son

A harsh winter’s dusk slowly descended upon Paradise. More like a shroud than a blanket, but no fabric or absence of light could mask the uncertainty that gripped the solemn stone channels that ran through Redland District. Trapped behind the dead silence was a steady pulse of panic. From one heart, to another, spreading like a spiritual infection among its residents. The children tucked away in their beds felt it. Their honest parents felt it. The neighbors, the friends, the acquaintances. 

A thread which had wound its way through every door was stretched to its limit. It would soon snap under the weight, and the repercussions would be all-encompassing. 

Who did these good pokemon have to blame? What could they have done differently to protect their comforting world--one which walks so precariously on this long string? Should they have cut the thread earlier and excised the problem before it became one? Could they have? Or was this something out of their control, something meant to glance off the Aegis of Paradise instead of themselves? Was the kingdom to blame? 

It was too late to wonder about the past. There were knights riding past on the cold stone, briefly illuminated by the light of lanterns through a crack in a young one’s shutters. An armored Mudsdale flanked by a caped Sylveon and Chimecho. They were moving too fast, too urgently. The string had started to fray. Those bolstered footsteps were supposed to make them feel safe, but it only reminded them of the dangers to come. 

This night would be remembered as the night a family was torn apart. 

  


_____

Vallion frowned at the backs of the party of pokemon Brute had just sent into the night. Two Dewott brothers, a Wingull, and a Scyther all rushed out down the barren avenue towards the opposite end of town, hollering war cries like this was going to be the greatest battle of their lives. They would eventually meet with the others, who had gathered at the far edge of West District to distract the guard, or split off on their own to cause trouble. Their voices faded out into the abyssal sky. 

“It’s almost time,” muttered Zoroark, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head. The bandolier over his shoulder was decorated in blast seed reserves and lockpicking tools. And a wrought iron dagger, though that was hidden beneath the covered part of his shoulder. “Swellow. You remember the potential hideaways I told you?” 

A long breath exited Freak’s nostrils. He picked at the cloth armor that covered his chest plumage as if he was unsatisfied with starting unless completely and utterly comfortable. “Of course I do. Three hideouts to the west. Two down the middle along Main. Two more in the east bordering Post District and Inflora District. The Matriarch has to be hiding in one. How did you intend to split us up?” 

Zoroark went over his supplies twice while lost in thought. “Well you and I were s’posed to take the western houses. We’re quickest and know the area the best, seeing as we grew up there. I’m not sure about the rest of you, and I don’t really care.” 

“I’ll take the middle,” Chenza volunteered, flicking flecks of ice that had accumulated on her claws. That manic grin still hadn’t left her face. “I’m not worried about getting arrested. And besides, I need to make a show for the rest of Shardurr. In time, they will all know who leads them.” 

“Don’t get captured,” grumbled Brute. 

She snickered. “Watch your tongue, asshole. I’d rather die than give Alexander what he wants.” 

The dragon grunted in response, then growled when his eyes turned to who would be accompanying him on the eastern route. “Serperior.” 

“Yes?” 

“Stay in line.” 

“Mhm. I will, if it suits me.” 

Brute didn’t like that, but the guttural noise he made in Vallion’s general direction was offset by a rumbling that carried over the distance. Incredibly faintly, nearly overpowered by even the inoffensive breeze that blew through--he could hear the shouting start up. Shardurr had begun the hunt, whether the city’s defenses were in the way or not. 

“That’s our cue,” Chenza pointed out, stretching her interlocked fingers. “If one of you finds her, send one to tell the rest of us and have the other make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. We don’t want Paradise getting to her first.” 

“And do not lay a claw on her!” Freak shouted, emphasizing with a stationary flap of his wings. “Not one fucking scratch until I get there. She’s mine to end. Brute, if you fail to understand that, I will pluck out the eye that Chenza spared you myself.” 

For once, the dragon’s ire was not directed at the Serperior. “Hm. I won’t promise you shit. If she comes at me then that’s all I care about.” 

Zoroark’s fur shimmered in a mirage that blended in all too well with the shadows. In his place was the image of another Weavile, though this one was markedly different from Chenza. He had donned a male’s ears, for one, and his red eyes remained the same in both forms while Chenza’s still burned dark orange. 

“One last thing, then we’re off,” the transformed Zoroark said in his natural voice. “Serperior. I know you ain’t been here long. The Family’s obviously about kinship. Even when they’re down like this, the bound-by-blood schtick’s still their main thing. They’re gonna fight back ‘til the last pokemon standing. Don’t get offed.” 

With that said, there was no more time to waste. From beneath this insignificant lamp post in the middle of the road, the three parties split off into action. Vallion worked the cold rigidity from his muscles as he took off down an eastern fork in the road, but was surprised at the burst of agility the Druddigon was able to muster in a moment’s notice. The two of them practically sailed down the icy stone, solemn lanterns flashing above their heads in regular intervals. 

The dragon half-skipped over the thin blanket of snow that had accumulated over the road, though that was a graceful way of putting it. He thrust forward with incredible beats of his wings, stomped down at the end of the arc, and lunged to repeat the motion with the other foot. 

Vallion wasn’t familiar with this path through town. The route Chenza took was the only one he had ever followed, and only during daylight. Even with a mental map of addresses and street names in mind, he mostly trusted in Brute’s lead. A few passing vantages showed some distant parts of the city, dotted by tiny lights like organized rows of stars. 

More resounding claps sounded over the rooftops. Could be thunder, or a series of powerful impacts, or some sort of sonic attack. It was intense, whatever it was. The main body of Shardurr’s riot was only meant to hit a few of The Family’s stashes--if there was anything left of them to begin with. There wouldn’t be this much opposition if it wasn’t from the guard itself. Damn, that can’t be good. 

The border street curved, following the top of a steep decline, Redland District to their left and the rest of Paradise on their right. They rode the line for several minutes before twisting inwards and following a secluded path even higher onto the hill. Brute made quick work of a gate’s lock and advanced into a sunken portion of urban landscape not unlike the place Shardurr was based in within West District. 

There were a few houses nestled together in the depression. The one they sought specifically was barely in view--sunken in behind two other buildings like someone had decided to build in the gap between the properties. It was a sneaky spot, he’ll give them that. 

For whatever reason, Vallion briefly considered knocking on the door. You know, in case they had the wrong house after all. While in the process of realizing how he wasn’t cut out for this, Brute marched up to the door and broke the damn thing into pieces with a single kick. He raised a brow and waited for the Serperior to follow. 

The candles were out. Not a peep came from the house after their explosive entrance. It was clearly built for a smaller species, as Vallion could no longer keep his head at normal height as he slithered along, and Brute barely fit at all. 

“Fucking shit,” the Druddigon spat out. He sucked in a breath and blew a slow stream of flame from his nostrils, providing a steady light that flickered as he spoke. “Go. Turn the place over. Let’s get this over with.” 

There wasn’t much to sift through. The tiny abode was clearly lived in, likely by some quadruped with how mats had replaced the chairs, but the signs of life were only just that. They made a pass behind every piece of furniture and checked every corner. Brute ransacked the place partly on purpose during his search, and partly from his tail and wings doing more work than he intended. Finally, Vallion found a trapdoor beneath a blanketed mattress. 

The passage led down a short ways into the earth, where a fetid smell guided him deeper into the crudely dug secret. A large dirt chamber opened up, presumably carved out of the hillside adjacent to this house. There were impressions in the ground that told of heavy crates that had once rested in this spot, but no longer. Empty. No spoils, no Mandibuzz. 

Brute stretched his wings with a grumble just as soon as they exited. That left one more spot to check on their end. Back into the cold to fall back into the rhythm of a sprint. Back into the glowing eyes of the lanterns that passed over their heads. The fighting further into town was getting noisier. That made it all the more disconcerting when the road forced them to head directly towards it. 

The first of the opposition they saw swiftly ran down a fork in the street just ahead. A regiment of pokemon donning green and blue rushed off not far from where they were headed. Vallion had to extend his vines just to pull the Druddigon around a building’s corner and out of sight. The dragon snarled a puff of flames at his face, ripping his vines away in a clawed fist. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Keeping us hidden, what do you think?!” the Serperior shot back, coughing at the smoke. “We can’t let them know we’re out here. The knight captain put down a curfew that ended hours ago. They’ll try to stop us.” And you’ll try to rip their throats out. 

“So?! If they don’t get out of our way, we beat them out of our way! What’s the fucking problem?!” 

“Senseless fighting’s gonna slow us down. We need to move quietly.” 

“Slow us down?! This isn’t?!” Brute shoved Vallion out of the way and bumped him with a wayward swing of his tail as he stormed past. “You think you’re hot shit because Chenza’s acknowledged you. Don’t. Nobody gets in my way and lives. You wouldn’t be the first pokemon in the inner circle I’ve killed.” 

The mists that lingered below the clouds lit up on the horizon. White and yellow flashes tore through the black night, accompanied by the sounds of chaos. Not all the shouting was filled with fury. There was terror in the voices that tried to flee from the crashing sounds of broken windows and shattered bricks. 

That was the first time Vallion felt his guilt overflow. At no point in this mission did it ever seem like what he was doing was hurting the innocent. Sure, there were questionable times, but these were extraordinary circumstances, and most of these pokemon were playing this dangerous game long before he arrived. Now people’s homes were being destroyed. Pokemon who wanted nothing more than to defend their countrymen and kingdom were being attacked. 

And Vallion was just going to let it happen. 

The Serperior had unconsciously started to fall behind the Druddigon. It didn’t matter, as they were both forced to stop when they stumbled upon a market square. Five more faces turned to look at them. Two knights bearing capes, an Escavalier and a Banette. Behind them were three pokemon who appeared to be regular nightwatch, as they all were nocturnal species. There wasn’t a chance to get a good look at them, as the Escavalier quickly barked for them to continue on before they turned to the two Shardurr. 

“Hey! Stop right there! What are you doing out of your homes?” 

Scoffing, the Banette stretched their arms behind their head. “Does it matter? Look at ‘em. They’re probably criminals. We should take them in, just in case.” 

Vallion scrambled for his words. “We were just passing through, sir. You’ve got more important things to worry about.” 

The Escavalier shifted their lances forward. “Like hell we do! Our orders are to hold this perimeter, and we’ll be doing just that! You’re stuck with us until this whole situation is under control and we’re been dismissed ourselves. Perhaps you’ll answer a few questions in the meantime?” 

“Tch. Looks like your way doesn’t work, Serperior.” Brute cracked his knuckles, catching his breath with a cruel smile. “I was upset when Chenza wouldn’t let me knock some heads in on the frontlines like last year. This’ll be a welcome snack.” 

Banette stepped to the side and seemed to melt into the shadows, their jeering disembodied. “Told you so.” 

The knight hummed and clashed his lances together. “What of it, Banette? Now our presence here was justified all along! The captain’s planning is impeccable!” 

Too late, then. Vallion knew better than to try and stop the Druddigon as he approached the Escavalier. The best the Serperior could do was stand his own ground, neck reared back above his head in a defensive posture as he eyed his immediate surroundings for the ghost. 

“Well I would’ve liked to just pass through, at least. I have no quarrel with you or the city.” 

A ghostly chuckling rang out all around him. “So? We’re all just playing our parts. I couldn’t care less who you’re quarreling with if you’re resisting arrest.” 

The Serperior somehow focused on the dense silence that encompassed him in spite of the volatile first blows exchanged by his draconic partner in crime and the Escavalier. Billowing clouds of flame elongated the oblong shapes and shadows of the market square, forcing him to squint in concentration. The already endless chill in the air somehow grew sharper, stinging parts of him that’ve been numbed for the last hour. A sense of dread crept up on him and blew on the back of his neck. 

The lantern’s light dimmed. 

Vallion whipped around to see a shade burst out from beneath a stall, needle-like claws splayed from their fabric hand. They had to become tangible to land the hit. In a whirlwind of reflex and might, the Serperior swung a heavy vine down over the ghost’s head. They weighed almost nothing, nearly bouncing as they were slapped to the ground. The Serperior swung his tail to sweep them away, but they had already safely sunk into the black. 

A short distance away, the concept of finesse was nothing but a memory. Brute and the Escavalier clashed like two forces of nature. Speeding pillars of steel collided with inch-thick scales and claws, more often than not resulting in the destruction of the surrounding environment. Clouds of powdery snow rolled off of smashed carts. Fixtures of brickwork and benches were cracked and battered. Blow for blow, it was what Vallion would’ve come to expect out of a real fight instead of those pathetic squabbles he’d seen up until now. 

A blur jumped from shadow to shadow towards the Druddigon’s flank. Leaping forward like a coiled spring, Vallion lunged for the Banette before their claws could rake across the dragon’s neck. He wasn’t sure if it would’ve even penetrated his hide at all, but his vines shot forward to grab the ghost out of the air regardless, barely warranting a confused grunt from Brute before he had to redouble his focus on the Escavalier. 

He swung the Banette into the trunk of a nearby tree. The resulting thud was disappointing compared to the force he put into it, but the ghost seemed dazed nevertheless. Vallion yanked backwards on the limp doll and bashed them on the corner of a bush’s square fixture. Finally, with one last wind-up above his head and some intermediate struggling, he tossed them across the market and out of view. 

Bursts of flame had melted arcs in the snow and revealed the beige masonry beneath. The Escavalier fell back, armor cracked and dented. Only their left lance remained to put space between them and the thousand-pound killing machine, who was merely scratched and scraped from the fight. 

“Retreat seems the m-most valid option!” the knight struggled to say, still speaking in that gallant sort of way. “Banette! Let us fly this place and bring reinforcements!...Banette?” 

No response. Vallion slithered over and cracked his neck in the direction that he had disposed of the possessed doll. “You’d want to start looking over there. I wasn’t paying attention when I threw them.” 

The Druddigon stomped forward, the back of his throat still smouldering. “No! We finish this here. We’re not leaving until there are no witnesses. I’m going to crush through your skull between my teeth and-” 

“Brute!” Vallion shouted. “Get ahold of yourself. We’ve still got work to do, and we don’t have all night to do it.” 

For once, the dragon seemed to actually acknowledge his words. Brute let the last of the smoke in his esophagus pour through his nostrils and turned to a northern exit. “Fine. Live to die another day, then. The result is the same. You’ll see my jaws close around your face in the end.” 

The knights did not try to pursue them. Whether it was from that last threat or from the admission of defeat, Vallion didn’t know, and he lost the mind to care. His calm was surface level at best. That air of panic that permeated the town had finally seeped past his cool demeanor, and now he was wrapped all up in it, too. 

Heart slamming in his chest, he rocketed down that empty street with abandon. It was hard to separate himself from the sin. Should he have just taken Chenza down when he had the chance? Was all this just a preventable disaster? He didn’t know. He just kept gliding down the road like he’d been told. 

Their last stop was much more obvious than the last. Along a row of houses with darkened windows and closed shutters was one residence that was clearly more well off than the rest. A hill covered in pine needles overlooked the two-story home, leaving ample breathing room for the offshooting extensions that were built on. The same process ensued: they approached, Brute smashed the door in, they entered. 

This time, they weren’t alone. The entryway led to a spacious den that was well-furnished and well-lit by a roaring fireplace. There, a Decidueye and a Galvantula whipped around out of fright. The Decidueye covered their wing defensively over a Rowlet. A terrible pause ran through the house. 

“If you’re lookin’ for the stash, it’s in the basement,” the Galvantula struggled to say, backed into a corner as they fidgeted out their pedipalps. “We don’t want to fight. I’m done fightin’. Almost died once already.” 

“We ain’t here for the food. Yet.” The Druddigon suppressed a snarl. “The Matriarch. Where is she?” 

The insect stammered. “N-not here. She’s been here before, but not tonight. You can check yourself. There’s an aerie in the attic.” 

Brute spat and nodded his head towards the Serperior, then started towards the stairwell that was much too small for him. The whole house seemed to creak as the dragon pushed his way up into the second story and beyond. That pause never seemed to pass, especially not when Vallion was left with what seemed to be the only inhabitants of his hideout. The crackling fire somehow made the silence even worse. 

“Why won’t you leave us alone?” mumbled the Decidueye, still shielding what was assumedly her child from the potential threat. 

“After tonight, I can only hope that we will,” Vallion admitted with a sigh. “How long have you been involved with The Family?” 

“All our lives,” answered the Galvantula. 

“Then for your sake, I pray that the task of finding a new life to settle into goes well. We will all need to change when this is done.” 

More stomping upstairs. It would stop, something would crash, and then it would start again. Before long, Brute squeezed down the same passage with the same frustrated scowl on his face. The Galvantula was telling the truth. Nobody here but them. 

“Where?” was all the Druddigon had to say. 

“We don’t know!” spat the Decidueye. “Nobody told us where the Matriarch is! All I know is that she’s not here.” 

Brute gave an indignant huff and started towards the exit. “Then this was a waste of our time. Serperior, come. We will meet with the others.” 

It would’ve felt strange to directly apologize for the door, but Vallion let what was left of it swing back into place as they passed through. Their route exhausted, it was time to head west and meet up at the furthest hideout in Chenza’s path. He was tired. The muted horror in his chest kept him going, but the cold did everything in its power to keep him down. There would be no sleep tonight. Not for him, not for anyone. 

They didn’t make it far before a frantic wingbeat appeared above their heads. A pang of adrenaline spiked through him, but it was only Freak. The Swellow descended onto a lantern and peered down at his two cohorts. There was an urgent look in his eyes. 

“Found her.” 

The Druddigon sucked in a breath. “Where?” 

“Not anywhere we would’ve checked. She’s in a cabin past city limits, near the mountains. We know the road. It’s time.” 

Vallion blinked at the ice that had crusted on his face. It all felt so distant from him. “Lead us.” 

There were no lamps out here. It was well beyond the beacons that kept the streets of Paradise from total darkness. In the countryside, there was no such luxury. Even the glow of the massive city behind them did little to reassure their position in the frigid plains. If not for the crude road beneath their feet, it would be all too easy to lose one’s place. That wasn’t even the worst of it. They had left Shardurr’s uproar far, far behind them. It was utterly silent--a gasp waiting to be made. 

This was what it will sound like when The Family ends. 

Freak held a small lantern in his talons. That twinkling dot was what the rest of them were forced to follow. Chenza was worse for wear from leading the charge in the raid, but the insane smile on her face could’ve fooled anyone. Zoroark was nowhere to be seen, assumedly wrapped up in some business to save what he could from the dying gang. Brute was starting to lose steam, his bounding leaps getting shorter and more labored by the minute. 

The large cabin itself was the only thing emitting any sort of light in the next mile. It seemed to almost invite them in, the distant shapes of illuminated windows beckoning for trouble to come closer. Of course the Matriarch would be expecting company. 

A screech exploded across the empty landscape. Their lantern beacon jerked to a lower altitude, narrowly dodging a comet of flames that grazed by. The fireball pulled out of the dive as a pair of burning wings burst from the sides and caught the wind. There were more cries from within the darkness, but none of the others were as visible as the Talonflame. Freak was forced to fly closer to the road to avoid the prodding dives. As soon as he was herded lower, however, the attacks stopped. 

Another two story building. This one was made less in the highly-efficient industrial style that Paradise’s builders loved to use. A simple log cabin, out in the middle of nowhere, protected from sight of Paradise by the crests of the many rolling hills that separated it from the kingdom’s great city. This place nearly felt isolated from the rest of the world in that way. It was its own pocket of reality, but the epicenter of so much. 

As Shardurr approached, several avian pokemon were caught in beams of light for a split second before seemingly entering through a hole in the roof. The front doors were wide open and waiting. Freak set the lantern down outside and waddled straight in without even looking back at his cohorts. Something told Vallion that the Swellow would’ve come here completely alone if it had come to that. 

There weren’t stairs. The second and first floors were separated by wide trapdoors in the ceiling. Parts of the roof were visible at some angles from beneath the holes, revealing the wide openings that the flying types had entered in through. There were still shingles to stop the snow from getting in, but it was otherwise exposed. 

A short climb later, Vallion was overwhelmed as he entered a large chamber soaked in the same energy as Reinhardt’s ornate throne room. The aerie had many elevated platforms along the sides in a circular pattern. The height of these platforms varied greatly, but a majority of them had nests built of shredded cloth and straw. Near a dozen piercing gazes immediately fell on their audience. Two Staraptor, a Talonflame, three Braviary, two more Swellow, and a large Skarmory were among just a few that Vallion managed to pick out before his eyes were drawn to the highest platform. 

A nest of blankets and pillows, more like a royal bed than an avian’s temporary roost. A Mandibuzz glared down with all the malice that her children could muster through just a single brown eye. The skulls of a variety of species surrounded her, along with some long bones she’d picked clean of marrow. A particularly massive incisor held the feathers behind her bald head back. 

The Talonflame hissed through his beak. “Wish I could’ve broken your neck on that dive.” 

“Ahh…” the Matriarch exhaled slowly, silencing the room. “If it isn’t my abomination of a son. How has it taken you so long to face me? I should have saved myself the effort and fed you to your siblings when your plumage started to come in.” 

Freak was a stone to her insults. “You missed your chance already, mother. I’m not going to miss mine. You’re not going to live to see another day.” 

Mandibuzz tilted her head back and cackled to the sky. “Bold words for a coward! Why is it that you only seem to have courage when there’s a tailwind of crooks and villains at your back? I should have known that traitorous Zorua would’ve grown up without learning his lesson, but who else is that I see? The Weavile who’s been giving us so much trouble? Supposed leader of that band of suicidal outcasts you’ve sunken into?” 

“The one and only,” laughed Chenza with a mock bow. Vallion shuddered to imagine himself at the other end of those murderous eyes. How many pokemon had she personally killed tonight already? 

“Enough!” shouted Freak as his feathers bristled. “They’re not here to kill you--I am! The reason they’re here is to finish off what’s left of your fate-forsaken blood! And if anyone else gets in the way of our fight, I’ll kill them, too!” 

“Tch. What a shame. Here I was hoping that I’d be able to teach the young ones how to hunt from the skies using your limp corpse. I suppose it’s only reasonable that I be the one that finally erases this cursed egg that I’ve laid. Your brothers and sisters should not have to suffer because of you, no matter how badly you want them to.” 

The Swellow inflated his chest feathers to their maximum and held his wings wide open. “They will suffer because they follow you, mother, and for nothing else!” 

One of the naturally-colored Swellow spoke out. “You’ve been saying that for years, brother. It’s gotten so tiresome that I’m glad you’re finally going to die. This city would do much better with one less freak running around.” 

It was like a bomb had gone off. A huge pump of the Mandibuzz’s wings pushed her into the air. Freak mirrored the motion almost perfectly in the same moment. A cacophony of screeches scraped the room as the two took off through the aerie’s upper openings into the black sky. Seconds later, every pair of wings in the immediate vicinity had taken off in a storm of feathers. In the next few, Freak’s siblings were upon them. 

Vallion had the advantage in that he could duck his vulnerable head and eyes well below his center of mass when the talons came. Picking targets out of the swarm was more difficult a task than actually defending himself, but the flying types were as persistent as they were swift. 

The Serperior started with a glancing jab to a particularly bold Staraptor’s upper frame, then lunged to catch the disoriented bird in his teeth. A powerful wing slapped him across the side of his head and knocked stars into his vision before he could do anything. Another Swellow swooped past to swipe at his eyes, but they were too cautious and pulled out at the last second. 

Plumes of fire erupted across the sidelines. Those who had set upon Brute had a much worse time. The Skarmory narrowly dodged out of the blast while a Braviary took the full brunt, crashing into a nest with their feathers fully engulfed. The Talonflame saw a glorious opportunity to dive through the inferno and land a square hit in the dragon’s gut. Another split second crashed by. 

The Staraptor had broken free of Vallion’s clutches and tried to take a chunk out of him in the meantime. They overstayed their welcome, and received a sharp blow to the side of their skull instead. The Serperior curled his frame around their left wing and broke the joint with ease. Brittle, for all the muscle that was behind it. 

That Swellow finally swallowed their fear and came back around for another try. Unfortunately, Vallion was no longer distracted, and his vines were much quicker than the speed at which someone’s bravery could leave their mind. He snared them in his grasp and used them as a living shield against their twin’s follow-up attack before discarding them into the wall as hard as he could. 

This was the first time he had caught a glance of Chenza in an actual fight. Something in his gut might have lurched at the three bleeding bodies that were already at her feet, had he not already come to expect it. Splatters of blood crawled up her claws and covered her thin fur in gruesome patches. She ducked to the floor in a flash to avoid a sweeping pair of talons, then in the same motion sprung back up to slice the Braviary’s foot clean off. The face she made was of utter glee and triumph, like a conqueror. 

If there was somehow a human in there, Vallion feared for his own sanity. 

The scent of blood and black smoke filled the room. The Serperior had taken a few blows and cuts to the head for some of that metallic taste, but the latter smell was very real. A searing heat had tore through half the aerie as Druddigon’s flames caught. The air was choking, forcing the battle downstairs out of sheer necessity. In a flash of rationality and mercy, Vallion gathered up three of the avians he had incapacitated in his vines before he landed on the ground floor. The Staraptor still struggled and fought against him to little effect. 

It wasn’t long before the fire started to crawl down the sides of the cabin. Brute hadn’t helped the matter, spreading the problem even further downstairs as he used his breath to keep the Skarmory trapped in a corner. An Unfezant tried to rush in to give their sibling some purchase from the dragon, but was cut out of the air by a jagged blur of red and blue. Chenza cleanly finished the job shortly after. 

They took to the snow outside before it was too late. Though it had been completely black when they had originally entered, the yellow of the flames bounced off the snow and brought much of the countryside to light. More of the wood caught, casting a symphony of loud cracks into the silent expanse. With one final act of goodwill, the Serperior dragged the broken yet still-living bodies of his opponents into the open away from the carnage. There weren’t enough brothers and sisters left to stop him. Even if they were, would they have? A shudder of adrenaline and pain shot through him. 

The Skarmory was doomed. They tried to swipe at Chenza with their razor wings and allowed her the chance to jump onto their back instead. She picked between the chinks in the armor with cruel stabs and forced them to the earth. There, she jumped away, and offered Brute the chance to take out all his brutality on the Skarmory. Vallion dared not keep staring in that direction, and was extremely thankful that the raging fire was nearly deafening. 

Instead, he followed the trail of the smoke upwards and saw two winged figures in the sky, dimly lit by the sheer luminosity of The Family’s burning empire. Freak’s feathers appeared iridescent even from all the way down here. 

The mother and the son made passes on one another. Swooping maneuvers and tight rolls, the both of them waited patiently for the other to misstep. The Matriarch was markedly slower than Freak, but even despite the Swellow’s apparent agility, it appeared exceptionally difficult to land a clean hit on his parent. No matter the tempo of the dance, the Mandibuzz was more than prepared to match. 

Had the Serperior not been an explosive mess of nerves and emotion, he would have found the battle mesmerizing. Instead, their every scream seemed to scrape the insides of his head and stab down into his core. Still, he couldn’t look away. This was something ancient and powerful, like a fault line beneath the ground long overdue for its next calamitous earthquake. He couldn’t pretend to understand the full gravity behind it, but he could feel it. 

Then, finally, a decisive hit. Freak feinted an attack on the Mandibuzz’s right wing to get her to twist around, then came down with a conclusive peck at the back of her head. The results were immediate. After a pained flailing, the Matriarch lost control and started to plummet towards the earth. Down, down, down...And with a cushioned crack, her body met with the snow. She struggled to get back up for a few moments, but was slammed back down when Freak swooped down on her. 

An ear-raking, primal shriek left the Swellow’s maw. Wings fully extended, he gripped his mother’s neck with a talon and started hammering down a frenzy of pecks. A cloud of ruined down feathers kicked up into the wind. The Mandibuzz had probably perished long before Freak was done, but when he finally finished, a terrible trembling overtook his whole body. The green and orange of his obtuse coloration were buried beneath red. 

Chenza made her way over. She crossed her arms, huffing and puffing and coughing on the horrid scent of the smoke. Her voice was uncharacteristically small. 

“That do it?” 

Unsurprisingly, Freak had a hard time answering between quivering in place and trying not to collapse. “It- I...It’s done. The Family is no more.” 

“Hm!” The Weavile turned her gaze to what was now more of a raging inferno than it was a cabin. “Well isn’t that something? Dreams really do come true, don’t they? You could go to bed every night doubting that the future’s gonna bend in your direction, until finally you’re standing…” 

She trailed off. Or maybe she didn’t, and the roar of the flames simply engulfed her words just as much as it did the kindling. Brute had a much simpler approach to the matter. He stomped up to where the Weavile stood, brushed some of the down that had stuck to the freezing blood on his hide, and grunted. 

“The future is ours.” 

Chenza snickered and sighed in the same breath. “Mine, Brute. The future is mine. But you’ll have your cut soon enough.”


	15. The Other Scarf

Panne’s sideways fist banged on the door two more times, shaking the blinds behind it. The faded white logo mocked her in the ensuing silence. She dismounted her staff in a huff, regretted stomping her foot down on the rickety stairway, and sighed once she was certain everything wasn’t about to collapse beneath her. 

“Nibby! I know you’re in there! At least I’m going to assume you are because I don’t know where else you would be.” She could clearly hear the hustle and bustle of the marketplace not more than a block away, but nothing from behind the door. “...What? You’re just gonna leave a poor, crippled Delphox to freeze out in the cold? That’s too cruel, even for you.” 

There was finally a shuffling from within the office. Panne didn’t exactly hold her breath, but after something like a minute and a half, the lock reluctantly clicked open as a muffled fluttering came and went. She rolled her eyes and pressed in into the relative darkness. 

“Took you long enough!” Panne said, kicking the door closed behind her and nearly tripping as a result. “Sheesh. You really were gonna leave me out there, weren’t you?” 

The Noibat had already flown back to his desk to turn his back on her. “You’re far from crippled, Panne.” 

“So? I could say I was and people’d probably believe me. I just hate it when people assume I am.” 

Nibby’s office was a goddamn mess. There were papers everywhere--on the floor, on top of half-opened cabinets, and even in the potted plant. All the drawers on the other side of his desk were left hanging open, too. In fact, one of the drawers was filled with little blanket scraps and tiny cotton pillows. 

“...Is that your bed? Do you sleep in there?” 

“Do you see a bed anywhere else?” 

The Delphox settled on a shrug. “Fair. You do fit in there, I guess. Might not be too uncomfortable now that I look at it.” 

“Why are you here, Panne?” 

She hopped up on her staff and leaned forward, her back end hanging off the other side. “I dunno. I felt like I should check up on you, I guess. Mostly because I’m partly responsible for that mess we got into, and I haven’t seen you since then, so...I don’t know. You don’t look very fine to me.” 

Nibby sat down in front of an unfolded newspaper and hummed. “I wasn’t hurt. I’m fine.” 

Peering over the Noibat’s rather unobstructive head, she squinted at the article in the paper that was front and center. Unsurprisingly, it was about the night that The Family collapsed, and the sum of the ensuing damages. All that was left were three broken survivors, a burnt-down cabin, and the corpse of a Mandibuzz with her throat ripped out by another beak. Her face went sour. 

“Well at least you won’t have to worry about the pokemon that were coming after you anymore.” 

He groaned. “Sure. I guess not. But something like seven civilians were killed, and around thirty injured. Thousands upon thousands of gold in property damage alone. Sixteen members of the guard were slaughtered or taken out of duty permanently. Many more than that were injured, but that number’s been omitted on purpose. And now there’s a power vacuum that Shardurr was immediately present to fill.” 

The office went as empty as it was when she was waiting at the door. She let her arms fall to her sides. “I mean, yes. That’s what happened. It’s not a good thing by any stretch of the imagination, but what can we do? You had those warrants that you were given. I blasted through half their members in an afternoon. We sped up the process, but they were on a downward slope regardless.” 

“That doesn’t make it any better! This ain’t a lateral move, Panne! That Weavile of yours just took another quarter of the damn city in the matter of a couple weeks! We’re already well beyond downward slope by now. We’re on a crash course with the deepest pits of hell and there’s no slowin’ down.” 

Her tail flicked. “Psh. Glad to see you're safe, too. Yeah I made it out fine as well, thank you for asking. No need to worry about me.” 

“There’s a heap of things to worry about as it is.” The Noibat threw his head back to the shadows on the ceiling. He stayed there for a time, blinking on occasion, staring off into space while a storm of thoughts swirled behind his glazed eyes. 

“You’re an enigma, Panne. A real piece of work. Your legend spins you as this wide-eyed little Fennekin with a heart of gold, but the pokemon floatin’ in front of me is anything but. You’re crass and careless. You’ve got the appeal of a bramble bush. Hell, just look at what you did to those gangsters. The image of a hero in my head don’t fit with the kind of mayhem you’re capable of.” 

Ears flung back, she placed her hands on the sides of the desk and glared a brief flurry of daggers. “Newsflash, detective. Heroes tend to change after living their entire lives. Nobody’s a kid forever. I haven’t become who I am today on a diet of rainbows and dandelions. The world I explored can be as cold and cruel as this city seems to be one-hundred percent of the time. I know I’m not who I used to be, and I doubt you are, either.” 

That shut him up. The Noibat turned his head to gaze into the paper’s headline for another half minute, organizing the obvious facts she’d just shoved back into place. “...Why are you here, Panne?” 

“Because it’s my mission to be here. Hey, running a university takes a lot of money. I’m not gonna get snooty over-” 

“I mean in my office. Why’d you come back for me?” 

She frowned. “You got some comprehension problems, buddy? Did that Carnivine bop you on the head on the way down? I came to check up on you, remember? And I was right to, seeing the state you’re in right now.” 

“I’m not your friend. I was barely your partner. Nothing came of us working together. Why come here at all?” 

“God. I’m not that rude, am I?” Panne chuckled. “Just because our experiment didn’t amount to anything but trouble doesn’t mean I’m gonna just forget it all happened. Maybe I’m a bit mean now, but I definitely was that bubbly Fennekin at one point. You know what? Here. This’ll probably prove something.” 

The Delphox left her staff against the wall and hopped up on the side of the desk instead, pushing aside the documents that littered it. She stuck her chest out towards the Noibat and tried to part the fur in just the right place. It took a few tries, but she finally found the scar. 

“See that?” she said. Nibby nodded slowly. “It doesn’t look too bad now that I’ve evolved twice, but that wound was fatal when I got it. It wasn’t even half a year after I pacified Dark Matter that it happened. And do you know who caused it? That fucking Master of Law of yours.” 

“Alexander?” Nibby mouthed, squinting at the faint patch of pink, hairless skin. “He really tried to kill you?” 

“Oh, he was trying to kill a lot of pokemon, and I was just in the crossfire. Though to be fair, that was after the bastard broke my leg, kept me in a cell all night, and tried to drug me. But yes, we are talking about the same guy. There’s a reason he’s all fucked up like he is now, and it’s because he was playing with fire in Water Continent and got burned.” 

“What was the Master of Law doing in Water Continent?” 

“Some bullshit, I don’t know. Completely fucking with the heirarchy of a mostly-peaceful mystery dungeon. Val’s got a better idea of what he was trying to do than I did, but at this point it doesn’t matter to me. ‘Cuz here we are again, trusting that slimy snake with our lives and just hoping real hard that things don’t turn out like they did before.” 

A thought crossed her mind. She looked down at the disheveled Nibby, head tilted. “...Yeah, I suppose we both almost died already. You’ve probably earned a better explanation than that by now.” 

The Noibat was somewhere far away mentally, but popped back in to return a confused look. “About what?” 

“About the mission Alexander gave me. And why I’m here--in Paradise, not your office. I’m not explaining that a third time.” She looked to the dark corner of the room and bit at her tongue. 

“You’re already familiar with that legend, anyway, so you must have a good idea about the other scarf. A human in the body of a Snivy named Vallion. My partner then--husband now.” The Delphox paused, imagining that Nibby gave her a nod from behind her back. “He’s the one that received a mission from Alexander. I just came along for the ride. In fact, let me show you where he is right now.” 

She reached around the Noibat and unfolded the newspaper. Her claw came to a stop several paragraphs down after much ado about the new Weavile mob boss that reared her head. One of the highly dangerous individuals who had been reported by a handful of knights, and was said to have been acting in conjunction to the raid. A Serperior. 

Nibby looked like he almost didn’t believe it. His eyes passed over that passage again and again, perplexed beyond belief? “What?! You’re tellin’ me that your partner’s been actin’ with Shardurr this whole time?! Oh Hollow preserve me, I hadn’t realized just how far-gone that tale my mother used to tell me was.” 

“Hey! Don’t go jumping to conclusions already! I may be kind of a piece of shit nowaways, I’ll partially admit, but Val’s the spitting fucking image of a hero. Alexander was the one that pleaded for his help to infiltrate Shardurr in the first place! You wanna know how I know Val’s still doing good from in there?” 

Flipping the paper over, she tapped her finger against the first couple of lines. “Three of The Matriarch’s children survived the fight. What was left of the others that weren’t burnt to a crisp inside that fire were totally brutalized. Those three pokemon were incapacitated at worst, not torn to shreds and merely hanging on by a thread. Concussions and contusions and broken bones. Vallion saved them.” 

“If you can call that saving them, sure.” 

She threw the paper and let it flutter to the floor. “Damn right I call it that! I bet those three would’ve been smears in the snow if you had just left it to that Weavile! He’s doing all he can--I know he is! I’m not about to sit here and listen to you talk about him like he’s burning down orphanages! I- I…” Her lungs deflated all at once. “I really miss him, and I’m worried.” 

Nibby stared down at the scattered pages of the newspaper, which had joined the mess of other documents that littered the floor. “So that’s why you went and tried to research Shardurr on your own, is it?” 

“Did it take every ounce of your deductive reasoning and investigative experience to work that one out?” 

His eyes narrowed. “Did it take every ounce of your adventuring knowledge to walk straight into an obvious trap and get killed?” 

“Tch- As a matter of fact, it did! And I didn’t end up dying anyway so my plan worked as far as I care! Don’t forget that I’m supposed to be the person that’s teaching the next generation how to actually survive in the wilderness.” 

A strangled laughter briefly pushed back the gloom, but it was laughter nonetheless. It looked like the first time Nibby had smiled in months, like his face wasn’t used to those muscles and she wasn’t used to seeing it. Actually, had she seen him smile before? Was that even something that’s ever crossed her mind? 

The moment faded into the next, marked by the Noibat’s shrug. “Sorry if I might’ve offended you. Don’t know if you’ve caught on, but I’m...I’m not fond of Shardurr, or any of their business. I doubt your partner’s exactly doing good from inside there, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the best possible thing to happen to it.” 

Panne looked to Nibby expectantly. 

“...What is it?” 

“I’ve decided that I’m using this as an opportunity to get you to talk about why you act so strangely. I already coughed up my dangerous secret that you could use against me. The least you could do is humor me after the fact.” 

Nibby immediately looked annoyed. His ears twitched, his nose tensed up, and his eyes rolled the full circumference of the room. It took nearly half a minute for him to finally huff in exasperation and take off the desk into the air. 

“Let’s walk, then.” 

“Can’t do it here?” Panne had to ask, but he was already fluttering towards the door. She shrugged and transferred from the desk to her staff in one deft motion. Guess not, huh? Well, back into the cold, Panne thought to herself with a sigh. 

The weather hadn’t gotten much better, because it never did. Rather than the typical huge clumps of snowflakes that came in droves, today’s flavor of winter was strong winds and dust-like particles of ice that formed into uniform piles of powder. Little vortexes danced across the roads as the gusts swept at the glittering ice. Pretty back home, maybe, but immensely annoying at present. 

Nibby didn’t hop onto the end of her staff or hitch a ride on her shoulder like he normally did. The Noibat had a destination in mind, and he was hell-bent on getting straight there, regardless of how far behind she fell while trying to slam his creaky door shut. 

“Hey! You know when people say they wanna walk and talk, it’s usually supposed to be a calming sort of thing! Nobody’s running and talking!” the Delphox shouted after him, catching up with a brief exertion of her telekinetic powers and a bit of squinting at the particles that caught in her eyes. 

He grunted. “Well this ain’t a calm sort of subject. You’re gonna get what you get, and I’m gonna give it how I want.” 

The not-so-pleasant stroll at least had the benefit of avoiding that crowded bazaar entirely. Nibby had taken her around that part of town and through an even seedier, though admittedly quieter route. The passage that she couldn’t quite call a road seemed more useful to city workers trying to squeeze through the background than pedestrians. A great deal of the snow that rolled off of surrounding rooftops ended up down here, too. Thank god she didn’t have to actually wade through it. 

When they emerged from the shortcut, an eyeful of half-forested sheer slope was waiting for them--par for the course with this side of the city. This particular street would slowly ascend along the side of that gasp of nature and bring them around the top. They passed a few bundled-up pokemon along with a hapless cart that was struggling not to slide down the slippery cover of loose snow. 

Then, Nibby spoke up. “I never used to do my job solo. In fact, this wasn’t even originally my business. This city’s a dangerous place, and it’s been that way as far as I remember. Knights come in pairs. Guards come in packs. Businesses all clump together for security. Rusty Mountain Mercantile wouldn’t be half as successful as it is now without that added edge bringing pokemon together. Otherwise- Well, you’ve already seen what happens to pokemon like me.” 

“Yeah, I get it. So you had an actual partner at one point.” 

“I was the partner, more like. An apprentice at best if you really wanted to scrape the bottom of it.” 

“Potato, potahto,” she said with an impatient roll of her wrist. “What are you trying to get at here? They up and disappear and leave you with their dirty work or something?” 

And then Panne looked up to see that they had walked along a metal fence for half a block, then turned past some wrought-iron gate. Standing like wave-beaten spires off the coastline in a sea of white were a great many headstones, and past those were small mausoleums that obscured the true depth of the cemetery. 

“...Oh. So it’s that kind of story.” 

The forlorn expression on the Noibat’s face said enough. He guided her deeper into the maze of tombs and burials. Very few of the headstones had faded, probably because the major city of Paradise hadn’t actually been around for too long. Still, that didn’t help much to preserve the identity of those buried here. Species, title, occupation, and perhaps a few quotes from family members or beloveds were all that really set the dead apart. And this was just the pokemon who could afford it, surely. 

Nibby broke away from his front-facing stare. “What’s with that look? You never seen a cemetery before?” 

Panne scoffed. “I’ve seen the fucking world, Nibby. Of course I’ve seen one. Hell, I’ve seen whole catacombs. My own hometown has enough history to have a barrow smack in the middle of it. I’m just not fond of what _goes on_ in these sorts of places. And, well…” she trailed off a moment. “I may be letting this miserable town get to me more than I’d like to admit.” 

“Winter’ll do that to you around here,” Nibby said and offered a weak smile. “Not that this is a very happy place in the summer, either. The blooming flowers can only do so much to lighten up fading memories.” 

They passed into a corridor of those stone mausoleums. The gruesome imagery of the Hollow adorned most of the graven fixtures, though sometimes there were more pleasant works of art amid the constant renditions of the draconic beast. Even quotes about Kyurem seemed overly grim--what with the whole inevitable progression of fate garbage. 

“Why is this faith of yours so damn depressing?” she openly expressed the question. 

“Because destiny is a crawling glacier that will sweep up even the sturdiest of oaks.” 

She thought back on the turmoil that the Runerigus priestess had shown her. The panic, the rage, and the fire. It had been on her mind a lot since then, not that it did any good to think about. It just meant that the worst was yet to come. “Yeah. I guess that’s one way to look at it. Maybe if you freaks got some more sun you wouldn’t be worshipping your eventual deaths so much.” 

Nibby came to a stop. He couldn’t land on the headstone without first knocking away the snow that had accumulated on top. Panne dismounted and planted her foot into an ankle-deep crust of ice. Wincing, she sucked in her discomfort and knelt down beside the lonely engraving. 

“This is your old partner, then?” 

“Was. Now she’s just a pile of rot and bones buried in the frozen ground. A lesson learned.” 

The Delphox wiped away at the intrusive coating of snow to get a better look at what was written. A Lucario was apparently laid to rest beneath her feet. It came to no surprise that she was an investigator. No immediate family, though it did say she originally came from a town in the south of Mist Continent. And there was something else, but she had to paw at the snow near the base to reveal it. What was-? 

“ _Even a wayward soul finds its home,_ ” the Noibat effortlessly quoted the epitaph without looking. “She never found hers, but that didn’t stop her from trying. It’s aggravating, really. You two would’ve gotten along terribly well. Between your reckless abandon and her stupid courage, I reckon the both of you would’ve taken the town by storm.” 

She frowned. “What happened?” 

“The same thing that always happens. Shardurr wins and gets away with it.” Nibby furrowed his chest fur, brushing a dusting of snowflakes away. “We were this close to putting that fateless Druddigon behind bars. The evidence was there, the plans were laid--everything was set. Lucario just couldn’t leave it at that, though. Druddigon wasn’t the type that wiggles out of trouble or tries to pull fast ones. She was absolutely certain that the bastard wouldn’t have gone down without causing as much damage as possible. She tried to stop him, and that was the last mistake of her life.” 

“Stop him from doing what?” 

“Going on a murderous rampage in the middle of Post District’s markets the next day,” he answered coldly. “I suppose she did manage to stop that, after all. Instead of trying to tell the guards and getting turned away without any basis, she confronted him the night before. Her aim was to incapacitate the beast to assure that everything went smoothly the next day. Instead, she was unceremoniously torn apart in some back alley somewhere, and the Swellow stopped by to destroy every trace of evidence that we had left. That I had left.” 

The Delphox ran her fingers over the name again, her claws catching on the rough-hewn texture. This wasn’t the marker of somebody wealthy or famous. It was simple and hollow--a gesture that Nibby had to scrounge up from the bottom of a coin purse. A long pause fell over the cemetery, where there was only the tinkling sounds of ice battering against stone. 

“You didn’t go with her,” Panne softly surmised. 

“I left her for dead.” 

“You would have died too, you know. Just like when you came with me.” 

“There’s no knowing that. I could’ve been enough to tip the scales. I know I’m not the strongest kind of pokemon around before my evolution, but I could’ve at least tried!” 

Panne held onto her staff and let it pull her to a stand. “The Family did me in pretty damn easily, even with you there. You were already captured by that time I would’ve been bleeding out, had Val’s scarf not saved me. To be honest, if I would’ve known that was going to happen the way it did, I definitely wouldn’t have let you come along.” 

“I won’t let it happen again!” Nibby shouted, his ears amplifying the cry so drastically that it shook wisps of snow from nearby headstones. The next time he spoke was twice as reserved and nearly inaudible. “You mentioned the other scarf? What that Serperior is to you, Lucario was to me. Wouldn’t you go rushing to his side even if it was suicide? Could you live with yourself having stayed behind to let him die?” 

“N-no! Obviously I’d die with him if there was no other way! You don’t even know how many times I’ve fucking tested that question!” 

The Noibat’s face went flat as years worth of guilt and agony were shoved neatly back under the bed from whence they came. “Then you understand why I’m not about to let anybody else rush off to their deaths alone. And now you also know why I was so interested in your little Weavile investigation with Shardurr.” 

“Ah! Shit!” Panne’s ears shot up. “I forgot that I came here to ask you something about that.” 

That seemed to snap Nibby out of his funk for a split second. “What about it? That investigation’s over. The Weavile’s already up and said that she’s Shardurr’s puppet-master. No need to go digging for evidence of that anymore.” 

Panne let out a single syllable of a chuckle. “Oh, it’s not even close to over. That wasn’t even the objective of our mission to find out. Our job was to figure out whether she was a human or not, and wouldn’t you know it Alexander actually gave me the green light to do some research on the side. Officially, not just what I was doing before.” 

“A human?” Nibby’s whole body seemed to tilt. “You mean, a human like the Master of Law is rumored to be? Like the Snivy in your story?” 

“And if she turns out to be, that could spell the worst disaster that this city has ever seen,” Panne added. “So what do you say, Nibby? I know you’re busy wallowing in misery and all that, but why not help me get to the bottom of this? Granted, I still don’t have any actual money to pay you with.” 

The Noibat glanced down at the grave marker he stood on and thought for a while. Despite the angle, his eyes darted between the engravings and read them again and again, silently mouthing the words as he stood. 

“...Should I be asking her, too?” Panne suggested. 

Finally, Nibby’s concentration broke with a snicker. “Oh, don’t do that. She would’ve pushed me right out of the way to join you. If her restless spirit ever manifests itself, I’d be out of a job.” He extended a wing towards her. “Why not? I’m sure it’s what she’d want, even if it’s just to remind you not to walk into traps.” 

Though the handshake was certainly far from what she’d call firm, seeing as she was holding the bend of a tiny bat wing and barely moving her hand, the meaning was very much present. It was shockingly reassuring compared to the first time. Maybe it was just that the air had finally been cleared. Or maybe Lucario really was watching.


	16. Revenge of the Pauper

Many roads led out of Paradise and trailed off into the countryside. As densely packed as the mountains were, wagon wheels and trodding feet had packed down numerous routes through the wide ranges and to other parts of the Mist Continent. Even with an ocean of white covering the trails, there were still solemn markers every hundred feet to guide travelers along the now-invisible roads. 

One such road followed out the central edge of Redland District and traced as level a path as possible through the narrow valleys between the foothills. If one followed it for long enough, they’d find that it went as far as the southern face of the northern mountains, curving up the side a ways before looping back down and connecting with some other vein closer to town. Normally this road was meant for travelers or adventurers who had business in the treacherous heights of some of the most dangerous peaks in the world. 

However, once upon a time, a wealthy guildmaster decided to have a house built along the furthest point of the road. The Simisear wanted a summer home up in the hills, far from all the hustle and bustle of the kingdom--somewhere he could look down over the blooming meadows that came in the warmer months and view all of Paradise from afar. 

That Simisear was dead. They made much of their money peddling illegal rations to poorer citizens, and were killed in the raid against The Family. With the magnitude of that event, the city would have its hands tied for a long time. It’d be months before anyone noticed that the owner of this distant property had perished, leaving it abandoned on paper. 

That made it all the easier to fill it up with Shardurr’s worst. 

It was a house of vanity, to be sure. The Simisear’s gaudy tastes reminded Vallion of the artistry that covered the capitol building. Wide arches with flat, militaristic geometry, evoking harsh shadows from the hearth in the center of the den. The place was painted a stark reddish brown, and the walls had been perfectly cut and placed to make that color a flawless plane. Being a summer home, it was admittedly more spacious than you would want in the dead of winter, though the amount of bodies that were crammed into the space made up for it. 

Every kind of lowlife you could ever imagine had come to Chenza’s feast. There were many high-ranking Shardurr present, like that Turtonator who ran the tavern, but prior members of The Family made up a majority of the patrons. Chenza liked to call them Shardurr loyalists, despite the fact that they were turncoats who simply wanted to edge in on the winning side. The gathering was meant to seduce them in particular, and it seemed to do so with flying colors by the looks of it. 

Uproars of laughter filled the ownerless manor. Shouting fights and petty squabbles were birthed and killed on the labels of expensive wines. A strange kind of camaraderie drifted through the halls and from room to room. Those who were once enemies had now united like kindred spirits. For their own selfish benefits, mostly, but sharing was a kind gesture once they had theirs. And all who joined arms and sang under this banner, sang for the Weavile with burning eyes. 

“You’re not even thirsty?” Chenza had said to the Serperior with a mocking tone. “What’d we even do this shit for if you’re not gonna celebrate?” 

“I don’t typically drink,” answered Vallion, eyes shifting towards a rowdy scene near the raging hearth. 

“So? What’s your problem, Bright-eyes? Scared you’re gonna lose control and bust someone’s head in? That Simisear wasn’t even keeping the hard stuff! You could stand a few glasses at the least. Hell, maybe you’d even figure out how to get that stick out of your ass.” 

Vallion huffed. “I’ll think about it.” 

“No, that’s not it. The point is to not think at all,” said the Weavile with a knock to her own head crest. “Whatever. You do you, snakey. Just don’t let anyone step on your metaphorical toes and get away with it while I’m trying to build my image. We’re supposed to be on top, remember? These leeches ought to know their place.” 

In spite of all the commotion, Vallion still felt more at ease once Chenza finally left. He couldn’t quite unsee that harrowing look that was plastered all over her face during the raid. Pokemon shouldn’t have eyes like that. Not even the most feral of wildlings took that much joy in killing, and Vallion had known more than a few in his time. 

Oh Xerneas, maybe he did need a drink. 

The Serperior made his way down a staircase with tapering width, squeezing past a Nidoking and a Tsareena that seemed to be getting too friendly. He went down into the den where every couch, seat, and corner was already taken or partially destroyed. Then into the kitchen, where the alcohol was still packed in snow rather than left out to be infected with three different kinds of backwash. 

Sterile ceramic tiling and a snow-covered skylight were the first things one would see upon entering the posh kitchen. A large marble countertop was filled to the brim with all manner of dishes--every last bit of it taken from one of The Family’s less profitable stockpiles. The less savory, more carnivorous meals Vallion forced himself to ignore, reaching past an equally repulsive and voracious Drapion to take a bottle of red wine for himself. 

Right after, Zoroark snuck around and swiped the same kind. The dark type regarded him with what seemed to be a friendly smile. Seemed to be, anyway. 

“If it ain’t Bright-eyes in the flesh. You’re looking...glum as ever. You really do look like that all the time, huh?” 

“You’re not in a disguise,” he pointed out. “Shouldn’t you be worried? Some of your former colleagues are here.” 

The Zoroark’s eyes narrowed as his smile widened. “You talkin’ about these pokemon? Slimy scum who are about to suck up to Chenza for a cut of her glory? These cowards don’t care who I am. I’m so confident they’re pussies that I’d sleep with my door unlocked and a knife on my bedside table. Anyways, I’m getting this to Freak.” 

Vallion followed, stabbing a sharpened vine into the end of the cork and wrenching it free along the way. “So Freak _is_ here, then? I haven’t seen him around, though that’s not entirely surprising. I never seem to see him first.” 

“Weird how quiet he flies, ain’t it? The sneaky wretch.” 

The Simisear’s old bedroom was a lovely place, which was probably why the Swellow had tried to hide away in it. Freak wasn’t entirely alone, what with the laws of diffusion pushing guests further and further from the rampage that was the room around the hearth. It was clear that the late guildmaster had a bed built for more than just himself, and the gilded decor had the intentions of being impressive to any prospective suitors. Now, a damp Frillish was using his bed to sleep off two glasses of ale and a discolored crime lord was nesting on his dresser. 

“You’re welcome, asshole.” Zoroark slammed the wine down on the mahogany with a grin, let that sound resonate for a while, then finally poured it into a bowl for the Swellow to drink from. That was what friendly looked like to him, wasn’t it? 

Freak regarded the ruby-colored liquid with a sidelong glare. “This better not be poison. Or swill.” Dipping his beak in and throwing his head back a few times, the Swellow’s face went sour. “It’s almost swill. Good enough, I suppose.” 

“You think they didn’t all take the good shit in the first five minutes? Come on, you’re lucky I even got you this.” The dark type leaned hard into the cabinet and stole a swig for himself. 

Vallion had just started on his bottle. It felt rather unceremonious to be drinking wine straight from the source rather than from a glass, but most of the glasses had already been broken or lost in the crowd by now. The pungent-sweet liquid wasn’t particularly impressive, either, but hopefully it would take the edge off. 

“I’m guessing Chenza gave you grief about hiding away on the sidelines, too?” Vallion eventually asked. 

The Swellow grunted his affirmation. “It’s not our job to be making a show for these fools. Brute has already thrown enough pokemon into that hearth tonight to make our point clear. To be honest, I much would’ve rather stayed in my nest than come to a joke like this. I haven’t quite...recovered yet.” 

“That’s what the alcohol’s for!” suggested Zoroark. 

“If it ever decides to do its one damn job.” Another four beak-fulls slid down his throat, desperate to wash away the nerves. “Serperior, I envy you sometimes. Even though you’ve come to Paradise on nothing but a grudge, I haven’t seen anything faze you. You don’t even care for the shows of power that Brute lives for. It must be nice not having anything tie you down.” 

“Well I have a wife,” he replied. 

“...Ah.” Freak had another two gulps for good measure. “Right. I forgot. That’s what the grudge is about. I’m trying to compliment your composure.” 

“You couldn’t compliment the broad side of a whore!” cried Zoroark. 

The Swellow shot his old friend a glare. “I’ll compliment my wing upside your head if you don’t shut the hell up.” 

Vallion drank deep into his bottle and sighed the sickly sweet scent. “I’ll leave you to that I guess. Just remember to watch your injuries until you’re sober again.” 

Back in the kitchen, the Serperior hatched something of an idea, and went about rummaging through the cupboards for some kind of container. Most of the place had already been ransacked for anything valuable or fun to destroy, but much of the mundane was merely shoved to the side. For instance, the crowd of ruffians ignored a polished wooden box with an interlocking lid which was actually quite nice. And also was exactly what he was looking for. 

“Didn’t take you to be much of a petty thief, eh Bright-eyes?” 

His nickname came without the usual malice that Chenza liked to throw into her voice. Linoone sat on his haunches, swaying slightly with the none-too subtle smell of alcohol on his breath. There was a dumb grin stuck to his face. 

“Ah,” Vallion started to say, setting his bottle aside. “Speak of the devil. I was just thinking about what you were talking about earlier. What kind of food here do you think your kids would like?” 

“Huh? Oh, the littlest munchkin is obsessed with sourdough for some reason, but the others go nuts over anything sweet. Listen, Bright-eyes, there’s somethin’ I gotta say. You’ve really helped me out over this last month, you know.” 

The Serperior was already leaned over the side of the counter, box held in one vine while his other went scavenging through the messy arrangement. “Have I, now?” 

“I know it sounds stupid. It is, yeah? I get it.” Linoone tapped a claw to the side of his head like a punch. “That don’t really make it any less true. You made me feel like a damn wet rag, gotta say. You know when you beat back those assholes back then? Well you were right, and I ain’t let them catch me since! I ain’t let anyone catch me, or put up with any shit!” 

“Is this something you should be talking about in public while inebriated?” 

His drunken grin grew. “I even fought in the raid! I’m changin’ for the better, I tell ya!” 

That actually caught Vallion off-guard, enough that he dropped the cinnamon roll he was holding before it could make it to the box. “What? You mean in the main body of it? Are you serious?” 

“I mean, I didn’t hurt anybody or nothin’. I just smashed some glass in and let guards chase me in circles for a spin. But I was there! I ain’t even had someone try to step on me since that night! That’s some new respect! You really made a difference with me!” 

“...I think you should probably be careful with what you’re doing for respect,” Vallion said, closing the lid of the wooden container with a satisfying thud. “Anyway, here. You said that you probably weren’t going to get to the food in time to save any of it, and now that you got drunk and forgot, I’ve done it for you.” He handed Linoone the box. 

At first, Linoone looked like he didn’t know what to do with it. His eyes fell flat on the container, and then lit up all at once. “Oh! When I said I would- That I’d take something home for the- Oh come on, pal! You don’t gotta be like that! I’m already all opened up and raw! I don’t deserve a friend like you!” 

Vallion held him back with a vine. “Okay, don’t go blubbering on me now. We’re hardly friends. I was thinking of your kids, that’s all.” 

“You should meet ‘em sometime! I could have the wife cook up a nice dinner, and then maybe I could clean the place up a bit. Whattdya say? Think you got the time, what with your lofty position under Chenza’s ass?” 

“Linoone, honestly,” Vallion kept his voice low, which wasn’t too hard considering the noise. “Now you’re just tempting fate. We’re only meant to be associates. Anything more and it gets dicey for the both of us.” 

Linoone’s frown got wider. “Don’t mind the booze, I’m very serious about this. I gotta repay you somehow for stringin’ me up by my britches. It’s just gonna nag at me until I do somethin’ about it.” 

“I’ll-” the Serperior huffed. “I’ll think about it, alright? Just calm down.” 

Thankfully enough, an uproar in the adjacent room drew both their attention away from the awkward conversation. This one was distinct from the last dozen because of who was shouting in the center of it all. Chenza was trying to gain control of the den, but it took Brute’s incredible roar to actually do it. 

Vallion peered over the masses through the doorway. Chenza had hopped up on the Druddigon’s shoulders to look over the crowd, claws on her hips and nose in the air. She somehow kept her balance as Brute shoved a clearing around the two of them. 

“Everyone shut up already!” yelled the Weavile, silencing the last of the voices. “There. That’s better. Honestly, some of you need to really learn how to zip your lips more quickly. I’m not going to put up with it forever, and you’re not gonna want to be on my list of grievances.” 

“I will kill you,” Brute promptly elaborated. 

“Yes, that. Anyway, I do hope most of you are enjoying this little celebration of mine. You should know that my generosity doesn’t exactly run deep. These types of things will be few and far between, and the Hollow knows how much work there is ahead of us. Shardurr’s ascent has only just begun. It’s only going to get harder from here.” 

She paused a moment to take in the muttering. “What’s with the long faces? Did you honestly believe that I’d be satisfied only having taken down The Family? As far as I’m concerned, this whole city’s up for grabs. Why stop and rest on our laurels when there’s so much more to gain?” 

The crowd’s many voices betrayed their emotions on the subject. Slight concern. Mild hesitation. For the most part, a majority of these pokemon were merely looking out for themselves. Basking in the afterglow of a conquered rival gang was one thing, but their leader had far loftier plans. Reception was audibly mixed. 

It didn’t faze Chenza in the slightest. “What’s the matter? Shivering in your boots? You all gonna run home to your mamas? Give me a fucking break. We’re not playing those fucking back-and-forth little games where we poke and prod the law and see what we can get away with! Let the children and the cowards hide in the shadows! Shardurr is more than a threat! If you’re too weak to handle that, leave this house now and let the rightful inheritors of Paradise through!” 

Of course, nobody was about to actually leave in front of everyone else. Just like before, the cheering started to overtake the reluctance, infectious as the promise of glory was. 

“That’s better!” she chimed. “Now listen up, you fateless nobodies! Like I said, The Family was only the first step in our campaign! The overstrung web of legalized crime on the other side of town is the next thing to stand in our way. That crooked Persian knows we’re a threat. There’s no way he doesn’t! A guild designed on exploiting the system is naturally afraid of a force that can tear that system down, right? We’re the predators, and Rusty Mountain is the prey!” 

The crooks and lowlifes howled in resounding agreement. 

“We ain’t gonna let them get away with that, are we? When this is all finished and we settle down and open our business and build our homes, are we really gonna let these word-warping scum wrangle the way you live? Do you think you’re safe over on this side of town, just because we outmatch their paid thugs? They’ll try to strangle you, too, unless we stop them! 

“Don’t think we’re done when we’ve only just started. By the time Shardurr’s finished, this city will belong to us, and there’ll be nothing on your back! No diluted bloodlines hoarding your food from you! No twisted guilds demanding hand-outs and forcing you to follow their rules! At this rate, we’ll be free pokemon by the spring!” 

Her speech was punctuated by the ear-splitting approval of the entire manor, which continued long after she dismounted from Brute and disappeared into the sea of bodies. For a moment it seemed like a very real possibility that the house would soon be demolished by their reactions, either from burning down or just being smashed apart. Some of these pokemon really needed more healthy ways to express themselves. 

The Serperior noticed a slight swing in his vision. He moved his head in more exaggerated ways than he meant to, and his stomach churned with the presence of the caustic liquid he’d drank earlier. Ironically, the influence of the wine made him even less pleased to be amidst so many other people. Freak and Zoroark definitely had the right idea, stowing away in a pocket of the party, away from the madness. 

Vallion’s tipsy search for a mere crumb of tranquility took him upstairs, but first through the veritable ocean of chaos. He pressed through, slithered up the stairs with a frown, and brushed off whatever drink somebody had spilled on him along the way. The masses refused to thin even on the second story balcony, where an audience had originally gathered to watch the spectacle that was Chenza’s honeyed words, but were now free to cause even more mischief. 

He’d only started to find peace once he traversed most of the second floor and came to a final staircase shoved off to the side of everything. A Dustox was making a webbed nest underneath it for some reason, but it was otherwise untouched by the band of criminals that were rampaging everywhere else. Onwards into the attic then, he guessed. 

It was much quieter, to its credit. Even the slanted ceiling and bare wood floor up here looked luxurious. A fine coating of dust covered what few pieces of furniture or forgotten boxes were present, leaving the attic with an almost intimidatingly spacious feel. The only sources of light were the way he came, and the parallel windows that faced the front and back of the manor. There was something odd with the back one, actually. 

The attic’s window was only open a crack, but for long enough that a small pile of snow had snuck through and piled at the bottom. Vallion cautiously approached the opening, and after some hesitation, stuck his nose through to push the window the rest of the way. A bitter chill blew past him almost immediately, whisking away the nauseating heat that had built up downstairs. It was pleasant--for a moment or two. 

A grunt got his attention. As he expected, someone else had the same idea he did to get some fresh air. The Serperior just didn’t expect it to be Chenza. 

“Well come the full way out if you’re gonna be here,” she urged with a gesture of her claw. “It’d look stupid if you were just sticking your head out of the window. I was trying to _not_ draw any attention. I’ve got to catch my breath after that.” 

Shrugging with his vines, Vallion obliged and slithered up onto the slanted shingles, careful not to let the displaced snow cause him to slip. Even in the winter, this wasn’t such a bad view. Paradise was fully obscured by a curtain of snowfall and mist from this distance, but the rolling hills did sprawl out for quite a ways. The descending dusk painted everything in a soothing, yet absolute shade of blue. 

“Beautiful evening,” Vallion commented. 

“It’s good enough,” Chenza replied with a snort. “I prefer clear nights, but those don’t come by too often at this time of year. This one’s been especially dark, I’ve noticed. Shame.” 

“A reflection of the times, perhaps?” 

She scoffed. “The only thing the weather’s reflecting are the lanterns off of the sidewalk. This has been one of the best years of my life so far. Hell, even tonight’s been a blast. I got to live like I was some wealthy fuck _and_ trash the place, too. Almost felt too good to throw the party here. I’d have just kept it to myself.” 

“It’s a strategic location. Hidden away. Forgotten.“ The Serperior glanced back down. “Perhaps a little overbearing if we’re talking about design. This guy could’ve probably stood to live a more modest life.” 

“Design? It’s not about the design! It’s about the- the gall of it! Up until I was shaking down an entire district I had never even held a fraction of the cost of this house in my hands! This motherfucker had a summer home while I was stealing scraps to eat and living behind boarded-up windows because they were letting out too much heat! The fact that pokemon were living like this is insulting!” 

Honestly? Vallion couldn’t exactly disagree. “But now Simisear is no longer living at all.” 

Chenza snorted. “Damn straight! That’s what happens when you cross Shardurr and don’t bend the knee! Doesn’t matter whether they’re rich or poor, that’ll happen to anyone. I just prefer it happening to the rich is all.” She looked out to the fog that obscured Paradise, then back to him. 

“You understand, right? That this city’s built on a pile of shit that stopped mattering a decade ago? That was my way of life because I didn’t ‘get in early enough’. Because I didn’t immediately kiss the oaf’s foot and pledge my soul to the kingdom. Once you start at the bottom there’s no way up unless you grasp and crawl and beg. That’s not how pokemon should live. The weak should fear the strong, not the other way around.” 

“So you’re suggesting that everyone should live like wildlings?” 

A pause. He could hear the dull crashing of some confrontation being resolved downstairs. A cheer punctuated the outcome of the brief skirmish, and within half a minute the chatter returned to normal. 

“Bright-eyes,” Chenza spoke up. “Do you believe in humans?” 

The question caught him off-guard. He looked away, careful to hide the way his eyes widened at the mere mention of the word. Then came the contemplation of how he should answer it, further extending the silence between them. This was his entire reason for being here. He should tread this ground carefully. 

“...Yes,” he eventually answered. “I do.” 

The Weavile snickered. “Fucking why? Those kid’s tales, really? How old are you?” 

“Old enough to remember when Dark Matter shrouded the world in death,” Vallion said. “I believe in humans. I see no reason not to. There is no more harm in the assumption that they exist than there is in believing in any sort of faith.” 

She clicked her tongue, hummed in approval, and glanced back out into the murky distance. “Brute had the opposite answer, when I asked him. He doesn’t believe in anything but force and dominance. His religion is war, and that’s something so tangible and effective you have no choice but to believe in it. Freak, on the other hand, is as devout to The Hollow as they come. You know what he thinks about humans?” 

“What?” 

“That they control destiny itself.” 

It was a common belief when it came to the legends that humans evoked. Alexander was always a firm believer that he and Vallion were some blessed gift to the world. The Serperior just shook his head, both to that thought and to Chenza. “Perhaps, though I doubt it. There is nothing to make me believe that they possess such an ability.” 

“There isn’t?” Chenza crossed her arms. “How much do you know about that grudge of yours?” 

“If you’re referring to the legend that Alexander was the human that stopped the Bittercold, then you can save your breath. I already know that whole story, and I do believe in it. That doesn’t change what my ultimate goal is.” 

She put up her hands in a shrugging surrender. “It’s not about whether you want to off him or not. You’re not the first, I can tell you that. It’s about where a human belongs in this world. There’s a common saying that there are two kings of Paradise, but only that buffoon has the balls to take the wheel. I think it’s the other way around. Alexander’s the one who’s sitting on the throne behind the throne--the human in control of everything. If you ask me, I’d say that Freak is right. I think that’s where a human naturally belongs.” 

Vallion’s face furrowed. The winds shrieked over the mountainside and buffeted at the house, pelting them in waves. “What are you trying to get at?” 

The Weavile looked intense for a moment, but deflated with a breath. She laughed and shook her head. “I’m saying that this city has always rightfully belonged to me, and that fucking snake took it from me. I’m a human too, Bright-eyes. Why do you think Freak’s so faithful to me even when you just saw him kill his own family in cold blood? That’s my throne those two idiots are sitting on.” 

He couldn’t pretend to be surprised. Rather, his whole body tensed up, and a storm of thoughts raced through his head. He picked one out of the many and sucked in the freezing breath to make it real. 

“How can you prove that you’re human? Did you have to fight some ancient evil or something? What merit is there to make that kind of claim?” 

She laughed, picked herself up, and started to climb around the roof and over him to get back to the window. “I can’t prove shit. It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not, though. If my influence on this city doesn’t convince you now, then it most certainly will when I’m on the roof of the capitol with Alexander’s head in my claws. There’s only room for one of us, and I’m not about to leave.” 

Crawling back into the attic, she turned her head and left him with one last chuckle. “Ha, no offense to your quest of vengeance or anything. We just happen to hate the same person. Don’t worry, I’ll let you have a piece of him before I seize Paradise for myself. A girl’s gotta stay humble. And to answer your question, wildlings have quite a few things sorted out.” 

And then he was alone in the rolling silence, looking over the foothills of Paradise, unsure of whether he had been close to any evidence or not. At the very least, now he was officially in the inner circle. It was a step in the right direction. That’s good, since he wasn’t sure how much more of this facade he could take.


	17. Lessons Not Soon Forgotten

Panne eyed the short stack of books again, her nails rapping against the hardbound cover at the top of the tower. Her other hand fussed with the notes she’d taken, flipping through page after page in her notebook to little avail. She looked up at the Grand Archives and noted that the hands on the clock were approaching progressively more worrisome hours. Finally, her eyes turned back to the Grumpig across the table from her. 

“Do you really not have anything else on the Bittercold event? I mean, no offense, but I kind of figured that there’d be a whole lot more on the subject, considering this is where it even happened. Some of these books Nexus already has copies of in its own library.” 

Visibly flustered, the Master of Books started to fidget with his hands. “I’m absolutely certain that this is our full collection on the matter. Some of these accounts only reference the event in passing, but I assure you that I have gathered everything. Frankly I’m at as much of a loss as you are. I’m from Air Continent, so my own knowledge on the subject is admittedly lacking.” 

“Hmph.” The Delphox slid everything into a neat pile directly in front of her. The quill she had been holding left her fingers and floated up, suspended by her telekinesis. She regarded the feather for a moment, hummed, then sighed. 

“Well there’s gotta be something more I’m not getting. I know what those fucking golden lights mean. I know what it said about those humans dying, too, but so would Alexander since he was the pokemon the damn thing interviewed. So why wouldn’t he consider Chenza as being one of them?” 

Grumpig looked fairly confused, which was reasonable considering that she was simply thinking out loud, having not told him a single damn thing about what she was actually supposed to be researching. Panne waved him away with a polite smile. 

“Don’t mind me. I’m just...getting stuck again. You’ll have to trust me when I say that I’m way better out in the field than I am with a desk of papers.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt!” His eyes lit up. “I just wonder, perhaps, if you would be better off asking the Serperior yourself than digging through tomes that you’re already familiar with?” 

She staggered a groan that gradually slipped past her teeth. Yeah, that was actually an excellent idea. It was such an excellent idea that it was also her only one, which retroactively meant having to interact with that grotesque overripe banana. The quill idly flickered back and forth in her psychic grasp. But if it was for Val’s sake, then… 

“...Yeah,” she finally admitted. “You’re right. You were right from the start, I just didn’t want to admit it. I’m not gonna get an audience with the literal king with all that’s been going on. Don’t you think Alexander’s a little creepy? Like I’m really not fond of being around him.” 

Grumpig definitely paused to choose his words carefully. “He is, ah...a strong presence, to be sure. I don’t know your history with him, but I can sympathize with a desire to--well, to minimize the time you spend in his company. Still, he lived through the Bittercold firsthand.” 

“Ah well. It’s his damn mission, anyway. Any idea where I could find that slithering corpse of a Serperior at this time of day?” 

“Master Alexander had an important trial to attend to just before noon, and after that I believe he had a meeting with the Master of Trade and a few others. At this hour he’ll just be wrapping that up, I imagine. You should be able to catch him if you left for the courthouse now, give or take a few minutes of waiting.” 

Her polite smile transformed into a genuine one, which was admittedly much smaller. “That’s actually exceptionally helpful. I mean, you’re one of the more helpful I’ve met on this trip for sure. This city’s honestly a miserable wreck at the best of times. Thank you very much.” 

“You’re very welcome!” beamed the Grumpig. 

Panne lifted the stack of books with her mind and opened her bag with her hands. Hefting it over her back, she gave the Master of Books a final nod and mounted her staff to leave. That guy was still a total dweeb, but he wasn’t all bad once you looked past the fact that there were so few academics in this city. Having someone to hold conversations with was refreshing. 

She plunged into the cold again, grimace stuck to her face. At least the winds had died down since this morning. Nothing ruined her first coffee like being pelted in the face by a slurry of hail and freezing rain. Somehow it being a bit warmer made it feel even colder. Why couldn’t this city have decided to tear itself apart during the summer instead? 

Post District itself wasn’t too unkind on the eyes. Now that she’d seen a bit more of the city, it was easier to appreciate just how well-kept these streets were. Perennial pots of green foliage persisted against the terrible cold, adding some much-needed color to the dull reds and greys that was so common in this place’s architecture. Everyone around here had places to be, too, so they were all too distracted to shoot mean looks at each passerby that came their way. 

The courthouse, however, was a fucking dark castle designed to instill horror into the hearts of anyone who gazed upon it. The stone building lacked any of the artistry or subtlety that the capitol possessed. Sheer walls and flat pillars. The windows were lifeless squares that were an insult to actual panes of glass everywhere. It seemed that every immediate aspect of the place was meant to strike awe and inferiority into anyone who had the displeasure of entering it. 

Perfect for who the building belonged to, now that she was thinking about it. 

It had taken a few minutes of waiting, like Grumpig said. Panne brushed the snow off a ledge to have a seat and stared at the doors underneath the shadow of the looming building. A myriad of pokemon came and went through the entrance in the meantime. None were prisoners being escorted by guards, unfortunately. Just boring old practitioners of law, toting papers or bags or their own contractual misery. 

Then exited the flash of yellow-green she was looking for--and much more green after that, for that matter. Alexander pressed through the heavy doors with a visible degree of effort, and following after him was a Flygon dressed to the nines in all manner of heavy clothing. Paradise-colored huge scarf, Paradise-colored shawl, and all the other frilly floaty bits that made up what you’d expect the Master of Trade to wear. Lastly came a Persian, who was so woefully underdressed that they were most intimidating of them all despite having the smallest stature. 

“...should know that I am not going to put up with anything but your best efforts,” the Persian just finished saying as Panne approached. 

The Flygon crossed their arms. “ _You_ do not get to decide where my best efforts are going. This shouldn’t be up for debate. The more I focus on your whims, the less I can dedicate to the side of the town that’s actually struggling.” 

“We already went over this,” Alexander grumbled as he left the doorway last. “There are bounds we cannot overstep as Masters, and His Majesty has no time for requests like this when there is already so much unrest. Persian, we will do what we can, but there is only so much we can do at one time.” 

“Hey,” Panne finally spoke up, drawing all three pairs of eyes and every hint of frustration therein. “You guys finished with that crooked snake yet? I needed to borrow him.” 

Persian’s lip raised in a silent snicker. “Oh, you can have him. I’m quite finished with this ‘crooked snake’, as you aptly put. Apparently I have a great deal of preparation to make for Rusty Mountain on my own. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

The guildmaster’s gait as he walked off was nothing short of arrogant. He held his chin aloft, lifting each paw over the snow like he was constantly afraid to step on something. His tail, thoroughly agitated, swung back and forth with little regard for reservation. He had been slighted, and now everybody was going to know about it. It gave Panne no pleasure in seeing how some things about cities across the world never changed. 

Flygon let out a sigh it sounded like they had been holding in for the last hour. Their wings, tail, and every other part of them seemed to droop. “That went about as well as I expected it to. Ack, what a waste of time! Not a day goes by when I don’t hate the mess that Persian left for me.” 

“It’s everyone’s mess these days, Master Flygon.” Alexander turned his tired eyes to the Delphox. “What is it, Panne?” 

She shrugged and leaned further down her staff. “What was that all about? I gather that was the infamous guild leader of Rusty Mountain, but I’d never actually seen him until now. He looks like a cunt.” 

The Flygon disguised their chuckling and coughed into their gloved fist. “Persian came to us with a concern about the defense funding for his markets. Since he uses a private company rather than one of our own, and because of the nature of what he’s guarding, it falls to me instead of the Master of War, and I...am not as fond of his ideals.” 

“So he’s trying to shore up his defenses for Shardurr?” Panne clicked her tongue. 

Alexander barely twitched his eyelids, but the effect it had on his glare was startling. “Whether you’re on the right track or not, I’d very much prefer you not talk about that topic out loud. In front of my own workplace in the middle of Post District, no less. Now what is it that you were going to ask me?” 

“Ah, fine. I was doing research on the Bittercold event and I had a few questions. Any chance you have the time to spare now that your cat problem’s sauntered off?” 

“Mm. Perhaps.” The Serperior turned his head to the Master of Trade. “Let us continue this discussion another day. Without Persian involved, optimally.” 

The Flygon offered a nod of agreement, gave Panne a small wave, and turned to take off into the air. Their wings kicked up a storm of ice that the Delphox was thankfully floating high enough to avoid. 

Alexander didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He turned, blinked at the snow that had stuck to his face, and started slithering in the opposite direction. “I’m going home. Are your questions simple enough to answer on the way?” 

She shrugged and lurched forward after him. “I don’t know. Maybe? Depends on how much you remember.” 

“Fair.” 

“I was reading a couple written recollections of the Bittercold, including the one you were interviewed for. I’m already familiar with the phenomenon regarding gold-tinted lights in the sky, because I’m one of the few pokemon on the planet that have seen it firsthand. You claimed that those were other humans being hunted down by Kyurem’s cultists. Well, what about Chenza?” 

“She is not one of them,” Alexander answered without a moment’s hesitation. “I know for certain that I am the only survivor. I had it confirmed multiple times by the very being that summoned us in the first place. The Voice of Life would not make a mistake as massive as miscounting the number of humans he has lost.” 

Panne’s ears shot forward. “Ha! That guy? You’re really gonna put that much faith into that dope of a Hydreigon?” 

“What?” That actually got Alexander to pause. “I never stated which pokemon the Voice of Life was in any of the interviews. How did you know?” 

“You kidding? I’m wearing a leaf from the fucking Tree of Life around my neck. Of course I know who Xerneas’ little assistant is. I even beat ‘em in a fight once. Have you heard of that one hurricane a long time ago that- Actually, that would take too long. You’re absolutely certain that Chenza doesn’t have anything to do with those lights?” 

The Serperior let his eyes rest for a moment, emphasizing the terrible bags that were beneath them. “Without a doubt.” 

She hadn’t seen this part of the district yet. The further away you got from ominous government buildings and funky art fixtures, the more reasonably everything was built. The neighborhood was still kept neurotically pristine, but with comfort in mind more than sheer grandeur. The shops weren’t as unapproachable but still held themselves to a high standard. The homes were clearly valuable real estate, but lacked the same gaudy nature that she’d seen from properties in other parts of town. There was even a cafe that looked as impressive as Kangeskhan’s. 

Alexander took an exceptionally slow pace up a set of stairs. In that lull, Panne spun her staff around and brushed the snow from her fur. “So what about that cult? I’ve definitely seen a pinch of Kyurem’s faith built into Shardurr’s modus operandi. Do you think there could be some connections?” 

“No,” answered the Serperior, a flash of annoyance coming over his face. “That was dismantled even before Bittercold had been resolved. I highly doubt that--if there truly is a radical faction of the church involved with Chenza’s gang--they are related to Munna’s actions in any way.” 

Panne put a finger to her lips. “Hmm? Munna, was it? Why does that sound so familiar?” 

“That’s not a question I can answer for you.” 

She didn’t have time to reach the conclusion of that stray thought. At the end of the avenue was what she could only describe was a complete fucking anomaly. The structure appeared to be some sort of half-dome--its circular walls appearing relatively normal near to the bottom until the whole roof curved inwards. She only knew it was a half-dome because the curvature seemed to suddenly end, but the architecture betrayed no more of its secrets from this angle. 

“What in the hell is that?” 

Alexander hummed. “My house.” 

“Are you serious? What kind of house is that? That’s a fucking- a stadium or a theatre or something. You know I actually got the impression that you were a minimalist sort of guy. I didn’t think that I’d be _this_ wrong.” 

“I suppose it does have an oppressive air to it from the outside.” 

“Tch! Oppressive? I mean geez, what do you make of the other houses on this street? Nobody’s gonna wonder where the Master of Law lives!” 

It didn’t exactly get any more modest on the inside, either. The highly-specific design of the house didn’t really afford itself the opportunity to be. The entryway and all the rooms were forced to go along with the major curve of the building. The walls and paint were admittedly pretty bland, though the furniture she could immediately see was fairly intricate and nice. And to top it all off, a servant had come to Alexander’s side within seconds of entering. 

“Welcome home, sir,” the uniformed Bellossom said with a bow of their head. 

Alexander acknowledged them with the world’s smallest smile. “I’ll have chai today, thank you. Use the large kettle, I’m having a guest over.” 

“Very well.” 

Laying down on her staff, Panne raised an eyebrow at the Bellossom as they busily waddled away around the corner. She waited until she could no longer hear their shuffling. “You know I haven’t seen Reinhardt actually command a servant once. You have them in your own home. Not so humble, huh?” 

“My body and my work often get in the way of ordinary life. There are times when I can hardly stand to move when I wake up in the morning, so I appreciate the help immensely. And these servants aren’t just here to be my caretakers. I have a garden that needs looking after.” 

“Ooh, a garden.” Panne sarcastically waved her hands in the air. “They don’t trim your leaves and water your tail at night, do they?” 

Alexander didn’t bother to respond. He simply took his crooked self over to the other end of the entryway and pulled back another sliding door. At first Panne thought they had gotten turned around somehow and went out the same way they’d come in. Except they most definitely didn’t pass through a small forest on the way in here. 

What Alex had called a garden felt closer to a hiccup in a mystery dungeon than anything. The dome’s ceiling wrapped around the lip of the sky, but transitioned into a sort of wire mesh that spanned the rest of the space in the center. Beneath the eternally-grey sky was nothing sort of a sanctuary of nature. Tiny hills and sediment cliffs, held in place by the webs of roots that jutted out of them, recreated the intricacies of a forest floor. A plethora of bushes and trees--some perennial while others were barren--lined the garden in such a way that you couldn’t even see through to the other side. 

Panne just shrugged and followed behind the Serperior. “Okay. This is minimalist in the most grandiose way possible. Congratulations, I’m impressed.” 

“Your questions, Panne. Did you have any more for me?” 

“Oh, right. So there was no report of any other phenomenon like the golden lights happening after Bittercold ended, right? Chenza wasn’t a late bloomer? I’m not really an expert on what humans coming into existence looks like but I know it’s probably not subtle.” 

Alexander thought about that for some time. There was a small clearing in the center of the garden complete with a standing scaffold of poles meant for a serpentine pokemon to rest on, a table just as covered in show as everything else, and a spent torch. The Serperior crawled up onto his weird snake chair, his many joints popping in uncomfortable ways. 

“On clear nights, we may see the aurora at times. Blues and greens and reds, mostly, but it’s never anything close to what you’re describing. I have seen huge shooting stars carve across the night sky, as well, but it's still not the same thing. There was no reported visual anomaly related to Chenza coming into this world.” 

The Delphox stifled a groan. “Shit, I don’t know. I’m finding it pretty hard to believe they really are human. I mean, I get it--I’m being paid to have the utmost goddamn certainty possible. It’s just that there really aren't any clues to follow. Unless they came from a different land entirely, I guess. It’s still not even a big deal whether they are a human or not. Like, they’re tearing Paradise a new asshole regardless of whether it’s a lie.” 

“It matters,” Alexander snapped back, fury flashing across his face for a split second before the exhaustion rolled back in. “I assure you that it matters. Perhaps not in a physical sense, but cosmically it could be more important than anything.” 

Thankfully, that garbage fire of a conversation ended when the Bellossom came shuffling back through the snow with a platter held carefully above their head. They set the tea down on the table with an expert toss, hopped up to clear away the snow, and began to pour the creamy brown drink into two separate cups. With that wordless bow of theirs, they were off again. 

It was a damn good tea, too. Kinda spicy, but not gritty at all. The scalding hot temperature was a nice touch since it seemed that Alexander just sat out in the cold all day for sport. Again, all of this would seem much nicer if it was just not the coldest damn months of the year. 

Panne sighed. “One more question.” 

“Fine.” 

“What the fuck were you trying to do in Poliwrath River all those years ago?” 

The Serperior froze. He turned his head, opening wide a single eye towards her and stopping to examine her face. “What does that have to do with the Weavile or the Bittercold?” 

“It doesn’t. It’s just something that came up again the other day, and I realized I still didn’t really know the answer. I figure I’m already here, so there’s no better time or place to get it sorted out.” 

After apparently not sensing any hostility in the question, Alexander put his cup to his mouth and tilted back for a sip. His weary eyes closed--the very image of fatigue. “You would not like the simplicity of the reason.” 

“Sure. I don’t like seeing your creepy face, either, but I’m here anyway.” 

The corners of his mouth raised an almost microscopic amount. “Fine. I first came to Water Continent to learn how to conquer a mystery dungeon.” 

She gave a shrug. “Well yes, I understand that. You were trying to start a cute little tyranny in my backyard. What does that even mean, though?” 

“Paradise is massive,” was how Alexander decided to answer, leaning back onto his own coils, draping over the sides of the poles. “This place is exceptionally close to the northern pole of the world’s ley lines. On top of that, it’s the middle of a rather vast valley in between a hammock of mountain ranges. There were many, many mystery dungeons here before Paradise had even been conceived of. Do you know where they went?” 

Again, Panne shrugged. “I don’t know. Did you bury them or something?” 

“Yes. I did.” 

“...Okay I know I’m supposed to be a scholar but you need to be more specific than that. I get that mystery dungeons start to recede nearer areas with more civilization, but what do you mean you buried them? You just like, built over top of them?” 

“Right through the center,” the Serperior agreed with a nod. “Poliwrath River was the experiment that would determine the fate of how Paradise would expand once it had reached a certain critical mass. I was young and arrogant. I thought that mystery dungeons were obstacles to be overcome, and that the denizens of such places simply needed a few nudges in the right direction to become like us. Of that colossal avalanche of failures and mistakes, I gathered several truths from the ashes. For one, I was right. Mystery dungeons could be conquered. 

“It takes a great deal of effort to do so, however. Structures and buildings provide stability to local sectors within a dungeon, that much is apparent. However, building a city on top of a dungeon will only cause it to rearrange like a sliding puzzle. You need eyes. Ears. Noses. Perception has to fill the space just as much as those structures do, else you end up like those warped ruins filled with vagrants. It is precisely because Paradise is so populated that I was able to erase those dungeons with time.” 

Panne had leaned forward on her staff now, ears tentative and forward. She took a drink of her tea without looking down. “You know, I’m pretty sure I heard something about these streets being so confusing and vast that the city itself was just one huge mystery dungeon.” 

“Conjecture and folk tales,” Alexander assured her. “...I think.” 

The Serperior coughed into his vine, looking out into the white-tinged canopy. “Anyway, that was the original reason for that whole ordeal. The good intentions behind the act matter little. The lessons it taught me have lasted for far longer than any spark of goodwill I’ve ever had.” 

“Yeah, you were definitely an asshole. I can’t say you didn’t deserve it.” He just blinked at her, prompting the Delphox to fill the silence. “I’m not over it. I’m just in too deep to care right now. And, well, you look miserable enough that I can’t help but feel like you’re still being punished for it.” 

“Do you know what the most harrowing lesson I learned from that mistake is?” said Alexander, to a reply of a bated breath of interest. “It’s not the chronic pain I earned or anything so shallow. It’s that you cannot force a pokemon to change, no matter the circumstances. Attempting to do so will only end in heartache and war. That’s something I continue to contend with day after day even now. Especially now, with the state of things. Forcing change really does seem to be the only solution that I can come up with.” 

“No kidding.” Panne exhaled out her nose. “Paradise probably wasn’t always like this, was it? Think you’ll ever be able to tighten the reins on the city again?” 

“I can only hope, Panne. For all my efforts, I can only hope.” 

  


_____

The night was young. A brisk gale lightly tested the integrity of the office complex, drawing all sorts of creaks and whistles from the old wood. It was a comforting sound in its familiarity alone, but the white noise certainly helped dispel the unnerving quiet and allowed Nibby to focus on the task at hand. 

The Noibat had just woken up not more than an hour ago. His pipe was lit, as were the trio of candles that brought a moody orange tinge to the papers he was mulling over. Panne had delivered to him accounts of the Bittercold earlier today, which went hand-in-hand with the research he had gathered from past censuses. Now it came down to busywork. His list of notes had only just started to scratch the surface of this endeavor. It was more of a personal affair than anything official, but that made it all the more important. 

He had gotten a considerable amount of work done before trouble decided to rear its head. It came in the form of a thud outside his door. The noise was little different than the rest of the rainbow of sounds that this building likes to make in violent weather. It almost seemed as if Nibby’s heart was going to thaw from the experience, too, until a sharp rapping came on the other end of the door. It sounded like a beak. 

It could have been anyone’s beak, the Noibat tried to assure himself. That thought wasn’t enough to convince him to actually get up and answer the door. The wind whistled as the moment went on, until the shrill tapping began again more forcefully. The hollow voice from the other side gave away his visitor’s identity. 

“Noibat. Open the door. There is something we need to discuss.” 

It was exactly who he had feared it was. 

In a panicked flutter of motion, Nibby tried to stow his current project away beneath a stack of folders. He took too long, eliciting a slower and more menacing pace to the next knock. A gasp of preparation was all he really had time for as he dashed over and unlocked the door. Landing on the handle in a specific way twisted it, knocking it loose so that he could fly back to his desk and let the Swellow enter on his own terms. 

The avian pressed his green head through the crack in the door before long. Walking along the ground, he pushed off with his talon to let the entrance of the office swing wide open, then flew off into the room. Swellow naturally gravitated to the highest point that he could look down on the Noibat, which happened to be the cabinets in the corner. 

Nibby wished his glare could kill. “What do you want?” 

“Have I mentioned that you did an excellent job at putting wedges through The Family until we could finish the job?” Swellow finally said. 

“No. You haven’t. I figured that out on my own when they tried to tie me up and bring me before the Matriarch so that she could put a pair of talons through my eye sockets.” 

“Aah, that’ll happen in our line of work. I still think it’s a funny way of showing appreciation, but oh well. How’s Alexander’s little Delphox helper faring? Has she come across proof that there’s a Weavile in Shardurr’s ranks yet?” 

“Haha. Funny, aren’t ya?” 

The Swellow smiled. “Some help he hired. Fool knew the truth from the get go and still couldn’t piece together enough evidence before Chenza revealed the secret herself. They’re not going to be a problem, are they? Anything to report on her that would make us have to write a strongly-worded letter?” 

He thought of what Panne had told her and struggled not to let his expression drift. The Serperior that had infiltrated Shardurr’s inner sanctum was supposed to be her own husband. It was Paradise’s trump card, and probably the most dangerous information that Nibby knew. With that knowledge in his heart, he steeled his glare on the green Swellow. 

“No. She’s not going to get anywhere with her research. As long as I don’t get hunted down again, nothing will come of it.” 

“Always the bringer of good news. As for that trouble you ran into, I suppose you’ll just have to be more careful with the next set of tasks we give you.” 

The Noibat’s wings flew open. “Absolutely not! I’ve already helped you lowlife scum enough as it is! You’ve already convinced half the damn city to eat themselves alive, what more could you want from me? Why don’t you go find some other detective to strongarm?!” 

Another voice would answer him--feminine and mocking. “But Nibby, you’ve been so good to us! Where else are we going to find such a reliable investigator?” 

He whipped around towards the door. The origin of the voice did not reveal themselves for several seconds, but a shadow seemed to pass over the top of the door. There hung a Weavile, upside-down, seemingly suspended from above with her claws dug into the fixture. She flipped down and punctuated the end of her previously silent entrance with a weary croak from the staircase. 

“You-” Nibby tried to find the words, but was immediately beset by the Weavile’s vicious eyes. It didn’t take an investigator to piece together who he now had the displeasure of meeting, not when her name was already plastered across the papers. It only took one good look for someone to know the kinds of brutality that this pokemon was capable of. 

“Me?” Chenza continued with a chuckle, kicking the door to a close behind her. She folded her claws behind her back, and ambled forward. “You know, I really love that I’m finally out in the open. I get to see to these things more personally. It was dull sticking to the background all the time, but you’ve never minded being a secondary character, have you Nibby?” 

He snapped back to reality as fury washed over him. “Don’t you dare fucking call me that!” 

“What? That is what you prefer to go by now, isn’t it? You never seemed to mind when your old partner used to call you that. What were they, again? A Lucario or something? Ah well, the memory slips my mind, even though I _was_ there. Once someone’s a mangled corpse it all starts to blend together…” 

“You shut the hell up!” Nibby projected his voice as loud as he could, the sound causing the floorboards to quake. “Get out of my office. Get out of my face. Leave this place and never come back!” 

The Weavile pretended to look offended. “Quite a nerve I’ve struck there, huh? It’s been a long time since then, you know. It’s probably time to move on. After all, I’m going to need you at your best for my next few moves. Shardurr’s future is going to depend on it.” 

He spat a flaming blue ball of spit in Chenza’s general direction, but she moved her head out of the way in time. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Shove off and die in a gutter already. I hope you trip and fall headfirst into the deepest pit in the Voidlands.” 

“Aw. Shame to hear that. You were very useful.” She was less than a meter away from the edge of his desk when she brandished her claws. The ivory spines glistened in the candlelight with the droplets of melting ice crystals. It was all too easy to imagine what a deep red would look like coating them instead. “But if that’s really the case, I’m afraid you’ve reached the end of your rope.” 

Terror instantly replaced the rage. Nibby began to backpedal, sheets of paper slipping beneath him as he ran out of desktop. “Wait. Wait a minute now. Hold on. You can’t-!” 

The Weavile didn’t stop at the edge. She hopped up onto desk and straightened her back to glare down at him. Nibby tried to take off, zipping over her head and towards the exit, but never in his life had such an escape worked out. A wall of force came down over his back and pushed him into the floor with a stunning intensity. He struggled to take in a breath, pressed into the dust by Swellow’s immovable talons. 

“But I can!” chimed Chenza as she knelt down to meet the pinned Noibat at eye level. “Who’s going to come looking for you when you die? Will your body freeze solid in this office after being left here for weeks? When spring comes, will you finally thaw and be discovered when the stench of your rot starts to drift outside? You see, what makes me so good at my job is that I don’t fucking care. I could find another detective to strongarm--you’re absolutely right! But that also means taking care of the loose end I’d be leaving.” 

Even just swallowing had become nearly impossible. Nibby couldn’t even turn his head away, caught staring into the reflective gaze of a predator. “D-don’t…” 

She smiled. A long, heavy moment passed before she finally gestured for Swellow to release him. As soon as those talons were pulled away, a flood of pain rushed forward in their place. The Noibat couldn’t even get to a stand as he coughed and sputtered against his own rug. 

“See? That’s why you’re one of the smart ones! Unlike your previous accomplice, you’ve still got a head on your shoulders!” Chenza laughed, but the joy wasn’t there. 

Nibby had lost the energy to be angry. “What the fuck...do you want with me?” 

“Just more of the same,” said the Swellow, triumphantly preening all the while. “In the next few weeks, businesses being run by Rusty Mountain Mercantile Guild are going to mysteriously acquire a suspicious amount of arms and explosives, right around the time that the guildmaster will be preparing to crack down on potential criminals in his territories.” 

“Ah, gee. I wonder how those got there?” Chenza put a claw to her lips. “That seems pretty incriminating if you ask me. In fact, if somebody trusted by the law happened to come across any hints as to which businesses those might be, they could really spark some fires between the guild and the king, who’s trying ever so hard to keep the peace.” 

“More fucking war?” Nibby managed to spit out between heaves. 

“That’s what it’s going to look like, won’t it? And it won’t even look like we’re starting it this time! That’s very nefarious, isn’t it?” 

Swellow took flight suddenly, launching himself out the door and perching on the railing of the staircase outside. “Once things are in motion, we will send you the first location to investigate. You’ll get your evidence, rush it along to a judicial level, and wipe your wings clean. I don’t understand why you’re so apprehensive when yours is the easiest job.” 

Every step that Weavile took towards the door seemed to make time move more slowly. Her toe claws finally scraped against the ice out on the balcony, but that terrible gaze still came back to haunt Nibby one last time. 

She closed the door, and not a single footstep was heard upon her leaving. Silence.


	18. Staying Afloat

“Ya gotta listen to me! It makes sense!” insisted Linoone, exaggerating his point with a wave of a claw as he staggered in his stride. “I’m a delivery guy, working for a delivery guy business! It’s a simple thing--there’s like dozens of ‘em already around here! And I mean I ain’t wrong, am I? Just because I’m deliverin’ money and smuggled shit doesn’t mean I’m not deliverin’.” 

Vallion rolled his eyes and let his gaze come back around to the slums that he and Linoone crawled through. The alleys were tight, the turns were cramped, and there was a strange musky scent that gave him the impression that there were too many pokemon living in one place. The benefit of building so much in such a small area was that very little of the snowfall actually managed to pile up in the street, and the temperature was markedly warmer than in more open blocks. Though it was exceptionally dark around here. 

“This is still definitely a bad idea,” the Serperior finally concluded. 

“Aw, pipe down! You agreed to it still! Look at you now, still agreein’ to it as we speak!” 

“I have willingly taken part in a lot of bad ideas in the last month and a half, Linoone. That doesn’t make this one any better.” 

Linoone shook his head, nearly missing the corner they were meant to turn at as a result. “Quit worrying about it! This gives us both a better alibi, yeah? My wife’s reassured that I ain’t just pretending to run around doin’ a job she ain’t ever seen me do, and you get to...have a nice home-cooked meal.” 

He blinked. “So you’re using me as leverage to convince your wife you’re not in with a gang?” 

“Hey! Only partly! It’s just that’s a pretty hefty part.” 

“I shouldn’t even be out in the open right now,” muttered Vallion as he was reminded to look over his shoulder for the upteenth time since he left the tavern. 

“Bright-eyes, why the fuck are you here, then?” 

“Because you asked me to be.” Vallion tasted the air and frowned. “And curiosity’s about to get me killed.” 

Killed might have been a stretch. As populated as these slum avenues were, it didn’t look like anyone living around here was going to bother even risking a glance at him, much less stick their nose in business that wasn’t theirs. There was already enough misfortune around here as it was. Still, he wasn’t exactly fond of being seen out in the open when there might not have been more than a handful of Serperior in the entirety of Paradise. There wasn’t exactly much room to wonder if he was the same one in the newspaper. 

In spite of his screaming reservations, the short journey came and went without any hiccups. Linoone gave Vallion a wink before he trotted over to his little hole in the wall--which was almost literally a hole in the wall, by the looks of it. The intermediately-small sized door gave Vallion doubt that he’d be able to fit at all, but even those thoughts were pushed aside when Linoone ushered for him to stand a ways back. 

“You- You did tell your wife about me coming, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, sure I did! Now lemme just- I gotta get the door open. It gets stuck real easy, right? I was s’posed to get it fixed like two months ago, but then I ran into some trouble, and then winter came so we can’t deal with it until next spring. You- Ngh, damn! You know how it is, ri-?” 

The door suddenly gave way, sending Linoone flying in the other direction. He tumbled over himself twice and crashed head-first into a crumbling pile of snow on the corner of the road. As he laid there in humiliation like a limp ribbon, a trio of excited voices came pouring out from the hovel. Three Zigzagoon came bounding through the open door in a name-appropriate running pattern and crashed into the same pile of snow as their father one after another. 

Linoone burst out of the pile in a powdery cloud, desperately trying to wrangle up his children by the scruffs of their necks before they got too dirty. A chuckling could be heard just below Linoone’s continuous stream of frantic mix of scolding and pleading. In the doorway was another of his species--smaller and more petite, with a sharper snout. She stood on her hind legs and giggled at the sight, but soon lost her smile as she turned her head to Vallion. 

He acknowledged her with a grin of his own, but looked away and pretended to study something else. He knew that the glare of a Serperior was naturally a bit intense, even when he wasn’t trying to be. Though admittedly it felt impossible to seem intimidating while Linoone was busy trying to drag his swarm of monsters back into their home. Funnily enough, all it took to get the Zigzagoon back inside was a few words from their mother promising dinner. 

“You’re supposed to push in first, remember?” she laughed, making way for the scampering tide. 

“”I knew that! I was distracted, see? I brought-” Linoone brushed himself off and gestured towards the Serperior. “I brought Bright-eyes like I said I was gonna! Can’t say I cave in for all of my promises now!” 

“I can see that.” The two Linoone briefly met in each other's company, passing by with a loving brush of their cheeks before the wife turned back towards Vallion. “I’ve heard him yap quite a bit about you, Serperior. Come on out of the cold. I’ve already started dinner.” 

A horrible pang struck Vallion right through his chest. He nodded and started forward, but inside it felt like he’d just been bound up by an iron chain. All at once he’d been reminded of the loneliness that had been shoving into the back of his mind--of the emptiness underneath his chin where Panne’s head should’ve been at night, so that her ears stuck up past his cheeks and surrounded his face. Like before--like always--he swallowed the gloom and proceeded. 

Vallion was right in that he could only barely fit into the house. His head nearly touched the ceiling when he extended his back the natural amount. It wasn’t necessarily cramped so much as it was just compact. 

Most of the upholstery on the furniture appeared worn-out from the constant abuse of youth--faded claw marks and tiny rips repaired with thread. Though the room had been recently cleaned, various toys and dolls had somehow found their way from the middle of the floor all the way to behind the couch. His forked tongue tasted something salty cooking in the distance. 

“Woah!” One of the Zigzagoon came barrelling out of the hall, their eyes locked onto Vallion. “Who’re you?!” 

“Who’s who?” Another spilled into view and did the same thing. “Ooh! Mister, who _are_ you?!” 

“They’re our guest for tonight,” said their mother, ushering them back. “Be good for me, okay? Don’t pester him just yet. Did you check on dinner like I asked?” 

Vallion had already lost track of which was which, but one of them raised their nose in the air. “I did already! It was boiling still!” 

“Well did you stir it?” 

“Uh- No? I forgot to.” 

Linoone’s mate tapped them on the head. “Then go stir it, silly. And help your brother take the pan out of the oven.” 

Only after getting a few extra seconds of gawking did the pair of Zigzagoon finally run off back into the kitchen. Vallion went ahead and remembered to dust himself off over the welcome mat, but somehow still felt more out of place here than he did among Shardurr. It wasn’t until the mother came over and offered a handshake that he felt like the living room wasn’t separated by some invisible barrier. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said with smiling eyes, claw in vine. 

“Likewise.” 

Even in that small moment as they parted, the female Linoone had somehow managed to tidy up half the room of the toys that were strewn about. “Feel free to get comfortable. I know it’s not exactly impressive around here, but it’s warm. I know how you grass types get in the winter months. I’ll have supper ready in a few minutes.” 

The Serperior was left alone with his accomplice. Linoone was still trying to get ice out of his fur, but he still found the time to prod Vallion in the side with his elbow. “See what I meant? The gal’s legendary. She could wrangle a horde of wildlings with one claw tied behind her back. Still don’t know how a guy like me could luck out so hard.” 

“I’ve always been confused as to how you ended up doing what you do for a living. This just makes me more confused.” 

“People need stuff delivered, right? Somebody’s gotta do the job. If not me then some other schmuck who needs the money to feed his three little monsters.” 

As if summoned by mere mention alone, the scampering sounds of little paws beat against the rug. The two Zigzagoon from before jumped over one another to get into the living room, along with a third who only peeked out at Vallion from around the corner. 

“Hey mister!” shouted the shaggier of the two. “What are you? Why are you so tall?” 

Vallion tilted his head down. “I’m a Se-” 

“He’s like that scary guy that stands next to the king! The umm, a Serper!” 

“No, you dummy! He’s a Snivvy! Kricketot told me he used to know a Snivvy once! Hey mister, how are you so tall? Can you tell me how so that I can be tall, too?” 

“Kids!” Linoone butted his way in once more. “Give the guy some space, will ya? You’re gonna suffocate him before we even get to eat!” 

The Serperior shrugged out his vines. “Oh, I don’t mind.” He coiled up to bring his head lower to the children, turning specifically to the shaggy one. “All you have to do to get taller is be patient. Growing takes a lot of time for your body to do. If you keep eating your greens, it’ll happen even faster. That’s how I got so big, and why my scales are so green.” 

“Oh, I knew it!” screamed the Zigzagoon with neater fur. “That’s why the scary Serper’s all yellow and short! He’s just not eating vegetables. I bet he just eats sweets all day because nobody tells him he can’t!” 

Shaggy grumbled. “Aw. I wanna be taller than dad, but I don’t wanna be green!” 

“Hey, oi! I’m not that short! 

Vallion chuckled. “Well you don’t have to be green, since you’re not grass type. You do still have to be patient, though. It takes time to grow up, and you don’t wanna do it too fast or you’ll miss out.” 

“Miss out? On what?” said Neatfur, their eyes going wide. 

“It’s a secret still,” Vallion whispered, a vine to his lips. “Trust me. You’ll get there one day, and you’ll know what that secret is. For now just be happy knowing that you’ll definitely be taller than your father.” 

“I’m not-” Linoone stuttered. “You shut up, Bright-eyes! You don’t even know how large my species gets!” The chorus of giggling from his children only spurred the moment on, drawing a grumble from their father. “That’s it, you little scamps. You went too far this time. Get over here!” 

Linoone’s streamlined movements contrasted from the evasive pivots of the little Zigzagoon. Bouncing off of and sliding beneath furniture, the game of chase got rowdy enough that the mother of the children had to scold everyone all the way from the other room. Linoone took the brunt of it while the two troublemakers got off scott-free, rolling over one another as their game continued into the hall. The shy Zigzagoon seemed to get swept up into it, but not before shooting Vallion one last glance. 

“Hmph!” Linoone dusted himself off. “Don’t go givin’ the buggers any ideas. I already get it bad enough as it is. You got kids of your own with that Delphox?” 

The Serperior shook his head. “No. Not quite yet. Our lives are still a bit too hectic. It’s hard enough being a professor, and that’s even after giving up most of the adventuring parts.” 

“Ah right. I forgot that you weren’t a- uh, a delivery man like me. Well when you finally do get around to rearing some snot-nosed brats that make fun of you, I’d say you probably got what it takes.” 

...Yeah. Maybe he did. Perhaps after Nexus University goes enough classes to raise its own generation of professors, then maybe... 

The wait wasn’t too bad. Linoone’s wife had likely been well into the process of cooking dinner before they ever arrived. Vallion did end up having a few minutes to warm back up and have a glance around the place. Apart from the well-worn interior, little bits of character shone through in the very corners of the home. Barren wooden walls with very particular patterns in the textures, and the few pictures that did exist were clearly very important. A brief glance through the crack in a bedroom door revealed a pair of intertwined marital scarves hanging from the wall. 

The dining room itself didn’t seem like it was meant to hold more than three smaller-sized pokemon, much less an entire family and a fully grown Serperior. With a bit of rearranging and the fact that none of them really used chairs, there was barely enough space for all of them. Add the dishes and the plating, though, and it was fairly claustrophobic. Linoone was crammed in on Vallion’s right, while on his left was the wide-eyed Shaggy. Sitting as far as physically possible was Shy--or so he called them, since he could barely tell them apart otherwise. 

“So Serperior,” Linoone’s wife began as the final plates were being set. Buttered potatoes, garlic bread with cheese, and tomato soup. “You’re my husband’s coworker, isn’t that right? Is this the sort of thing where the manager drops in for a meal like at an office job?” 

“Something like that,” he replied with a shrug. 

“That ain’t so at all, Bright-eyes! That’d be much stuffier, and it’s not like I’m fixin’ for a promotion or whatever! Just wanted to have a time with someone I consider a pal--that ain’t no crime, is it?” 

“Well I suppose not. It’s not like I’m in charge of who gets promoted and to where, even though I guess I am a higher rank than you.” 

The female Linoone’s eyes narrowed, her pupils suspicious and predatory. “As a delivery man?” 

“...Yes,” the Serperior slowly answered. “I’m in charge of the orders. I don’t actually go out and deliver them to anyone. It’s more obligatory than anything, since it’s not too difficult to figure out what to do with an address and a box.” 

“I see.” Her eyes didn’t get any less accusatory, but she did at least start going for her food. “Have you been working with my Linoone for long? It’s rare for a Serperior to come live around these parts.” 

“Oh, I just traveled here a couple months ago. From Water Continent. The winters here are...well, I think I came at the wrong time of year to say the least. I do like the work for what it’s worth--especially the parts where I’m inside. Definitely don’t mind pushing papers in this kind of weather.” 

“Mmm.” 

The ensuing silence was thankfully not particularly silent. The three Zigzagoon still had a lot to say to one another--especially Shaggy, who would not stop going on about what his friend Kricketot said the other day about fireworks. It was something about sparklers, but the story was presented in such a way that what Kricketot originally said changed every couple of sentences. Shaggy commonly ignored Shy whenever she tried to point this out. 

The food was clearly the unsung hero of the whole night, though. A home cooked meal made with love and excess was something Vallion didn’t even realize he needed. It was probably the best thing he’d eaten since coming here. A perfect combination of savory and fattening to make up for what the constant cold had stripped off of him. He didn’t even mind the quiet since his mouth was almost always full anyway, but he found time to give his compliments anyway. 

“I know it isn’t particularly fancy,” said Linoone’s wife. “But it’s affordable, and it fills you up enough to push through the weather.” Her gaze locked on Vallion’s neck. “Does your mate cook for you?” 

He chuckled. “Oh, not usually. She’s fine with basic recipes, but the moment you pass a certain number of steps she starts getting a little too creative. Not that I’m much better. It’s only the two of us, though, so it doesn’t have to be complicated.” 

“How does she get along with the climate? What’s her species?” 

“Delphox,” Vallion answered, feeling his glare grow more wistful by the second. “It’s not really dangerous for her up here, but she’ll definitely complain like it is. I don’t mind it at all, really. It honestly feels too quiet when I go without.” 

“Heh. A Delphox and a Serperior. Just like that story of the millennium heroes, huh?” 

“We get that a lot,” he said, gladly returning to his plate before that comparison could develop any further. 

Sparklers were also made out of shooting stars that fell into mystery dungeons, according to Shaggy. The stars would hit a wand that was laying on the ground and push all the magic out one end so that it could live inside the stick itself. Neatfur disagreed, citing that he had seen flying types go up and catch the shooting stars in a bag to put into sticks later. Shy quietly noted that sparklers were made out of ‘glowy powder’ and not stars. 

For as much as Linoone’s wife made, there were many hungry mouths to feed. Dinner came and went rather quickly. Dishes were nearly piled up and whisked away to a busy-looking kitchen. With a bit of coercing, the three kids--now thankfully sluggish from the meal--were sent off to go wash up in the other room. Linoone himself followed shortly after, weighed down and bloated from the four potatoes he must’ve scarfed down in a matter of minutes. 

Vallion had the moment to voice his compliments to the chef personally while she fiddled with a stack of bowls. “Thank you again for the meal. I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve felt this full.” 

Her lips pursed, curling a bit above her fangs. She looked on at the dishes with a sort of distant stare. “I’m still a bit surprised. You’ve made such an impression on my sweetheart that he actually invited you over. He doesn’t get along with many pokemon, you know. Never really has. This has never happened before.” 

“I’m an agreeable sort, I guess,” said Vallion with a downward tilt of his head. 

“He’s become more confident, too. A little bit more sure of himself. I noticed right away that something happened. I’m assuming you’re involved with that, aren’t you? You’ve done something that inspired him, right?” 

It was getting dicey. The Serperior averted his gaze to an open cupboard and started trying to count the plates. “Inadvertently, maybe. I just try to look out for him is all. He’s a little hardheaded, though I’m sure you know that already.” 

The female Linoone had already pulled away from the dishes. She stood on her hind legs in front of him and closely examined the Serperior’s face. “I’ve known that pokemon almost all my life. He doesn’t deliver anything, and I’m sure you don’t either.” 

“...What makes you say that?” 

“Because he’s a terrible liar. You’re not, though, which makes me worried. Clearly you don’t mean any harm, and he’s so awful at lying to me that I would know if you were, but you still don’t come from a nice place, do you?” 

Vallion rolled his tongue in his mouth. “No. No, I wouldn’t say I do. Not right now, anyway.” 

“Yeah. I figured.” Her stern expression broke after a few seconds and became pleading. “I’m not upset that he feels more sure of himself. I’m just worried that it might cause him to run into trouble he can’t slip his way out of.” 

“I-..know what you mean.” 

She sighed, pivoted an ear towards the bathroom to check how much time she had left, then turned back to the dishes. “I don’t know who you are, and I doubt I ever should, but if you’re really someone that’s supposed to be on his side...just watch out for him, would you? He’s about to do something horribly stupid--I just know he is.” 

The intensity of the promise was washed away by a tide of shouting as three Zigzagoon came crashing through into the kitchen. That post-meal sluggishness lasted all of three minutes, it seemed. Linoone’s mate shifted gears completely as she started to gently wrangle her children, all the worry that was locked behind her eyes not moments ago disappearing without a trace. 

By the time Vallion had digested this and started on his way out, the kids decided once again that they were extremely interested in him. 

“Hey Serper!” Shaggy cried out after him. “What does the ceiling feel like?” 

“What?” He looked up, half-expecting that he’d been missing something obvious the whole time on the surface six inches above his head. Nope. It was just a plane of wood, same as the floor. “I guess it’d be somewhat rough? Maybe it has a splinter or two? Actually, you know what? I could let you see for yourself if you wanted.” 

The Zigzagoon’s eyes practically glowed. Shaggy must’ve stretched himself an extra half of his body length in preparation for Vallion’s vines, laughing maniacally as he was hoisted into the air. Apparently the texture of the ceiling was a great mystery, and Vallion had just helped him solve it. 

“Ha! You’re all so tiny down there! Everything’s so tiny! Dad, you’re all short!” 

Linoone didn’t appear like he enjoyed being short. “Just keep talkin’, mister. You’re really gonna get it when you get down from there.” 

“Hey! Me next! It’s my turn next!” shouted Neatfur, bouncing back and forth over Vallion’s coils. 

Eventually everyone got a turn to decipher the mystery of the wooden ceiling. Even Shy finally opened up to have a turn running her paws over the boards above their heads. Vallion asked Linoone if he wanted a turn, which got a good laugh from everyone except him. The Serperior couldn’t really help it, honestly. Linoone _was_ exceptionally easy to pick on. The smiles of his kids at least seemed to put him at ease. 

The fun couldn’t last forever. After some distracted goodbyes and one last meaningful glance from Linoone’s wife, Vallion slithered outside and frowned at the cold. He stretched out over the street with a huff, working out all the kinks that he earned from packing himself so tightly into that excessively-snug home. It was funny. Even after all that, he was going to leave with the longing in his heart hurting worse than ever. 

“Bright-eyes. Wait.” 

Linoone had come after him, the pitter patter of his claws against stone coming shortly after his voice. 

“What is it?” Vallion turned and answered. “Did I forget something?” 

“No, no. Nothin’ like that. You left in a hurry, though. I had one last thing I wanted to get off my chest.” 

The Serperior hummed. “I just got too homesick is all. Anyways, shoot. I’ve got all the time in the world.” 

Linoone swallowed at a lump in his throat. “You know, I mean what I say when I say it. You’re playin’ a big role for everyone around here, not just me. What I’m trying to say is that you should watch out for yourself, too.” 

“I already am.” 

“Not like that. I mean-” Linoone shook his head. “I’m still Alexander’s snitch, yeah? Chenza’s playing big hands, but there’s no way she’s gonna stay ahead of the game forever. I’m proof that she’s got chinks in her armor. I’m proof they’re gonna be found, too. When the king and his wave of boot-lickers comes crashin’ down on her, they ain’t gonna care who you are or what you’re doin’ there.” 

“I know. I already knew that. I’m prepared to deal with that.” 

“Well you better be,” he said, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t know why, but my munchkins seem to have taken a liking to you. I don’t need them finding out the knight captain disemboweled you in the streets, yeah?” 

“...Yeah. I’ll make sure to watch out. Keep out of trouble yourself, Linoone. I’ll see you around.”


End file.
